


Tightrope

by abel_runners



Series: Living With It [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fraternization, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Mass Effect 1, Mutual Pining, POV Kaidan Alenko, Power Dynamics, Shore Leave, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Spacer (Mass Effect), There are a few scenes from Kaidan's POV too so, War Hero (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abel_runners/pseuds/abel_runners
Summary: This is what Ada Shepard has worked herself to the bone for: a mission that'll make a difference, a state-of-the-art ship, and a crew of her own. She's at her highest height yet, and hell knows she cannot screw this up. But her heart. It never got the memo that things are complicated now, and that it has to show some damn restraint. Too soft. That's what they always said she was.My Shepard's journey through ME1, and all the ways she fails miserably at not getting too endeared towards her crew.
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard
Series: Living With It [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008957
Comments: 37
Kudos: 15





	1. Looking for the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 2 of my [Living With It](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008957) series, but it can be read as a standalone. It's complete. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada takes charge of the Normandy and meets the crew. She's no good at staying detached.

Ada stares at her half-open duffel bag. Socks. Uniforms. Gotta put them in the new locker, get to the galaxy map and set a course for—what was it? Therum? Yeah, Therum. But she can’t convince her feet to move, stuck on the floor. Can’t goddamn move, and she has a biting headache right behind her brow bone.

God, she doesn’t need this. Has to move. Do her job, and do it right. She takes a deep breath in, but the bite’s still there, dug in. Like the beacon bit into her brain, burrowed deep, flashes of red and wires and spilled guts, and Saren looms. She needs to stop him. Jenkins on the grass, blood leaking from his mouth.

Her chest stabs, hard, a knife sunk deep into bone.

She fucked up. _Jenkins_. A kid she just met, barely talked to—why didn't she talk to him more?—but now he's dead, and they promoted her for it. For Eden Prime. A Spectre now. Fucked up already but she cannot fuck this up, can’t, or else— 

Another deep, deep breath that can’t get past the stab in her chest, the grip of the chill, and she rolls her tight shoulders. Come on. _Come on, Shepard. Get it the hell together. Mom always said—look for the bright side, the bright spots, the good. Look for them. Not this. Don’t focus on this._

Her eyes dart around the cabin as she inhales slow, again. The air’s cool and crisp, just like she’s used to. Just like home. A few lines of the tension in her shoulders abate at that. Walls are silvery, the door’s sleek and shiny, bed big. The galaxy map, beautiful and glittering outside. Captain’s quarters—isn’t that what she always dreamed of? Yeah. It is. And she’s here, not on Eden Prime with Jenkins' listless body, not on the crowded, noisy sprawl of the Citadel. 

Here. It’s her ship. Her crew. Her dream, fucked up start or not.

Her hand presses onto the smooth wall. She shuts her eyes, letting the needling ache inside her fade into the background. It’s faint, but just like every ship, it’s there, right under her calloused palm: a steady hum. The Normandy is quiet, quieter than she’s used to, but it's own signature hum is strong and constant. Reliable as all hell. A promise under her breath:

_I’ll take care of you. I hope you’ll take care of us, too._

* * *

The armature’s body sparks, and Ada’s breathing hard, sweat dripping into her collar, but it’s down—and no one’s dead, which is way better than last time. 

“Everyone okay?” She says, raising her voice over the hiss and bubble of the lava behind them. Holsters her rifle.

Alenko’s breathing is a little ragged on comms, but he gives her a sure nod, holstering his pistol too. “Yes, ma’am. All good here.”

Williams, though. No response, which doesn’t make sense, because her first impression of the Chief was that she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Ada swallows through her dry throat—fuck, the boiling heat of this place is worse than home in the summer—and walks up.

“Hey, Williams? You alright?”  
  
Still nothing. Behind the glass of her helmet, Williams’ eyes are stuck on the shattered, half-melted head of the giant geth.

Ada goes stiff, sickly realization dawning on her. _Oh, god, of course. The geth. Her unit. How the hell could I forget about that?_ Her hand half-reaches towards Williams’ shoulder. Thinks better of it and drops her arm to her side. “Williams?”

Williams finally tears her eyes away from the dead geth. They’re filled with an anger so hard, so sharp, that Ada has to clamp down on the urge to step away from her. “They killed them, ma’am. All of them. Didn’t even _hesitate_.”

“I—I know. Shit, I can’t even imagine what that’s like, losing your unit like that. I’m so sorry.” 

Williams’ gaze drifts back to the broken glass of the armature. Silence.

The lava pops, glows orange. She can’t even feel the heat anymore. Williams’ whole squad killed—how the hell would _she_ handle it? She has no fucking clue. Wherever Williams is right now, she’s not sure she can reach her. Can’t say a damn thing that’d get close.

Williams nudges the armature’s steely, broken shell with the toe of her boot, and grips her rifle tighter. So tight it could dent. “Let’s go get Dr. T’Soni, ma’am. I’m done with this place.” 

One last look at her, one last impulse to say something, do something, anything, but she stops herself. She wouldn’t want pity, either.

“Alright. Yeah. Let’s move out.”

* * *

The Normandy’s a hell of a lot cooler than Therum, which is a relief. Ada finishes filling up her bottle of water, datapad in hand, reports to write. Dr. T’Soni seems to be settling in okay, at least. Her lack of combat experience is worrying, but she jumped on the idea of training with Williams and her, so. That’s something. _Just hope I don’t get her killed._

She runs into Alenko in the hallway. He looks pretty beat up after that boiling planet, too, eyes bloodshot and tired. “Oh. Commander. Didn’t realize you were still up.”

“Yeah, I was just checking in with Dr T’Soni. And I talked to Williams, too.”

“How’s Williams? It got kind of, well, intense down there.”

A sigh, deep, heavy with worry. “She’s alright, I guess, but still pretty shaken up. Pissed off, too. I don’t blame her. I’d probably lose my mind if my whole squad got taken out like that, so the fact that she’s holding up at all is pretty incredible.”

“Yeah. I’ve never really lost anyone under my command. Must be awful, what she’s going through,” he says, low. Those dark eyebrows push down, solemn and serious.

“I’ve had a few close calls, but nothing close to what happened to her down there.” Her grip tightens on her water bottle, the metal creaking. “God, we need to stop Saren. He can’t keep doing this.”

Alenko straightens up and meets her gaze. There’s a determination shining there that’s—unwavering. That—just for a second—makes her feel like she’s standing on steady ground again. “We will, ma’am.”

* * *

The mess hall’s crowded, everyone clambering for dinner before they hit the next planet. Ada sits down with her tray of mashed potatoes and what's theoretically meat, gaze sweeping the room. It’s nice, having everyone here. The Draven sisters from nav—Thalia and Rose, was it?—are shoving each other by the microwave. Grieco is chatting to Gladstone, ever-present coffee in his hands. The crew seem comfortable here, which is good. Friendly to her, too, fun to talk to on her morning rounds around the ship.

A frown creeps up on her face at the thought of _fun._ Damn it. If she were a better CO, she'd probably be a little more detached. A little more professional, just in case she has to make a hard call one of these days. And even though the regs say socializing with her officers and her ground team's tolerated, getting chummy with the enlisted is iffier because of the rank differences, and—

Grieco notices her gaze and grins at her, bright, and she can't help but smile back. Can't help the easy warmth inside her that blooms at having everyone here. They're barely a couple weeks into this mess and she's already in way too deep, isn't she? Yeah. _Fuck_. Too attached already, but she can't cut herself off from this. From staying friendly; from getting to know them as people, not just soldiers under her command. 'Course, she's trying not to be too stupid about it—she damn well knows there's a power dynamic here, so she'll respect boundaries, do her best to avoid favoritism and blurring the lines too much, but still—

She's in this _with_ her crew.

And maybe that makes her a crappy leader, too fucking soft, on the edge of unethical, but. She can't stomach pulling back. Leaving them out in the cold. Won't do that to them, no matter what.

Joker waves his fork in front of her. "Shepard? You in there?"

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry. What's up?"

"I was saying—Arcturus. Can't believe I just found out you lived there, too."

"Oh, yeah, I did. It was only for my last couple years of high school after my parents split. Wasn’t there my whole life or anything.”

Joker tilts his head, eyes softening. “Oh hey, your parents split up, too? Guess Arcturus does that to people. Can’t believe we never ran into each other.”

A smile tugs at her mouth at the thought. Another smile. She hasn't smiled this much in a while. Yeah. She would’ve liked hanging out with him too, even as a dumb teenager. “That would’ve been fun. Or a disaster. Either one.”  
  
“Damn, I miss that place. Especially the ice cream in the vending machines, you know the ones. Best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

She quirks an eyebrow— _best_ thing? “You can’t be serious, Joker. The standard ice cream on Arcturus was _atrocious._ The gelato at Carlotta’s store was light years better.”

“I’m telling you, Arcturus knew where it was _at_ with the ice cream. Carlotta’s ice cream tasted like health or tree bark or something—made me sick. This kind of stuff,” Joker nods at his unnaturally neon orange glob of ice cream, “is as close to the gods as it gets.”

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.” Alenko finally breaks his silence, his own dessert untouched. Ada sighs. At least someone else on the Normandy has tastebuds. 

Joker stuffs another huge spoonful of the orange goop into his mouth, and her stomach turns a little. “Nope. Not kidding.”

“Well, feel free to eat mine. And it wasn’t _tree bark,_ it was actual, raw pistachios blended with—” She shakes her head, sharing a look of defeat with Alenko. “Nevermind. I’m glad you’re enjoying it, at least.”

And she is glad he’s happy, terrible taste in food or not. She glances around the mess, sparks of warmth spreading through her at the glimpses of easy smiles, relaxed shoulders, full plates. Yeah. She’s glad her crew’s here, safe, okay.

She just wants everyone here to feel safe.

* * *

Mud. Sweet cherries. That’s what the air here smells like, hard and cold in the early dawn. She taps on her helmet tucked under her arm. Ripe cherries is a new one. Must be flora she hasn’t run into before—like she knows any of the names, but still. 

“Ma’am? You spot more pirates?” Williams breaks the silence, half-climbed into the Mako. Following protocol, like she always does, while they wait for pick-up from Joker. T’Soni is in the background, absorbed by something on her omni. Which doesn’t seem to be unusual for her, so.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. No pirates. Damn nice view, isn’t it? It’s a shame we never get to stop and see the sights.”

Williams sidles up next to her, clicking off her helmet, too. Golden light warms her face, softening the dark circles under her eyes. Wait. Dark circles. _Damn._ _Looks like she hasn't been sleeping._

“Yeah. Reminds me of home, dawn and everything. Dad used to wake us up at ungodly hours to go hiking."

Ada snorts. “Your Dad too? Maybe it’s an Alliance thing, or a dad thing, because my dad did the same thing whenever I visited. Still does, actually. Hated it when I was a teen, but…”  
  
“It’s a nice memory now,” Williams finishes, voice a little wistful, staring out into the craggy valley. A flock of birds fly across the shifting gold-pink sky, landing on the base’s antenna below. Can't hear the chirping from up here, so it's just silence. And more silence.

Ada swallows down on the urge to fill it. She's gotta watch it. Have some semblance of boundaries, and follow Williams' comfort levels, which right now—she's going for silence. Silence, and staring out at the rising, hazy sun.

_Wait._

“Where’s T’Soni?”

Williams straightens, the distant look falling off her face. “She’s right—oh. She was right behind us a couple minutes ago.”

Ada circles the Mako, heart starting to pound behind her breastplate. Shit. They miss a stray pirate? Did she get picked off while they were busy chatting about the view? First mission out and Ada got her killed? _Fuck_.

She shoves her helmet back on, opening her comm channel. _Please don’t be dead._ “Dr. T’Soni? Come in.” 

No reply. Her throat strangles. 

“Damn it. We need to find her before the Normandy gets here. Keep trying to raise her on comms, Williams,” she orders, pulling up her omni, looking for that blue dot of T’Soni’s suit reading-- _there._ It's still online. Good. Doesn’t mean she isn’t half dead, bleeding out in the dirt, but her suit’s still up. Better than nothing.

“I’ve got her location. Come on.”

The first thing she sees is the orange glow of an omni at the bottom of a shallow, bramble-choked crater. 

_Oh, thank fuck._

Ada slides—stumbles—down the root-thick slope, shoving her way through prickly bushes—and gets to T’Soni. Who’s … Wait. Is she scanning something? She’s crouched in the dirt, staring at a chunk of what looks like worn, overgrown cement.

“T’Soni! You’re alright. Are your comms working okay? You’re not injured?”

T’Soni startles, glancing up from her omni, a far-away look on her face. “Oh! Shepard. I am sorry, I did not mean to alarm you. I simply wanted to investigate this ruin before we left. I suppose I got too focused and I didn’t hear your comms, I—” 

“Hey, it’s fine. Just warn us next time, okay? I don’t have a problem with you continuing your research, but I have to stay updated on where you are. Just in case.”

“Yes, of course, Commander. It will not happen again,” she stutters out. Her eyes drift back to the ruin. “Oh. Are we leaving right away? I can hurry, but I was hoping I would get a sample of the ruin.”

Williams squints at the chunk of rock. “ _This_ is a ruin? I kind of thought you were kidding.”

“It is severely damaged, but yes. I believe it to be Prothean—but I need more data to know from what historical era. Commander, do I have time to—?” She gestures at her omni, eyes big and pleading. God, like Ada would ever be able to say _no_ to that. 

“Well, Joker’s gonna pick us up in about ten minutes, so you have some time.” She crouches down next to her, looking closer. Trying to see why this thing is so fascinating to the doc. All she sees is rock covered in roots and soil, so she wouldn’t even know it was a ruin if T’Soni weren’t here. She reaches towards the surface.

T’Soni snatches her hand away. “Careful! It is very fragile. And very old.”

“Right! Delicate alien ruin. No touching. Sorry. So, what are we looking at, anyway? You said it was Prothean?”

T’Soni’s whole face lights up. Before they know it, the ten minutes are up, and Ada knows way more about the composition of Prothean building foundations than she ever really wanted to.

Still, there’s a light bounce in T’Soni’s step as they head back to the Mako. Ada smiles a little. The detour was worth it: it’s pretty much the first time she's seen the doc so happy ever since they extracted her from that mine. For the rest of this mission she'll follow T'Soni’s lead on how friendly she does or doesn't want to get, but—no matter what, she’s gonna do her damn best to make sure that bounce in her step sticks around.


	2. A Fonder Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feros is dark, damp, and cold. Ada does her damn best to make it a little more tolerable for her team.

Ada rolls her sore neck, armor heavier than it was this morning. Damn, she’s still not used to fighting geth. The way they move—no breathing, no mistakes, just a relentless intent to blow her head off. It’s a hell of a feat, what the people here at Zhu’s Hope have pulled off, surviving so many waves. Not sure she could’ve lasted so long without any training. She scans the ash-choked perimeter of the colony for the millionth time. No signs of another geth ambush on this side. No signs, so as soon as Williams and Alenko are finished with their patrol, they should be okay to head down into the tunnels, and— 

“I wonder, do you ever miss Earth?” Tali muses, almost to herself. Ada looks to the quarian next to her, mask stuck in a box of wires, tools Ada can’t name in her hands. She’s busy helping out one of the Zhu’s Hope’s engineers while they’re out looking into the water system’s issues. Busy asking out-of-the-blue questions, too.

“Huh, I dunno. Sometimes, I guess. I’m used to all the moving, but there are days where I want to have lunch with my dad or whatever and he’s a three-day flight away. Any reason you’re asking?”

“Oh, well, your file mentioned that you lived there when you were a child, and I’ve always wondered what that is like, having your own planet to come back to. I’m sorry if that was too personal of a question, I—”

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry. I have a lot of pretty good memories there, but I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask about Earth. Space and ships have always felt like home to me.” Ada shifts on her aching feet, leaning harder on the wall of wires and pipes. She hasn’t thought about Earth in a while. Wonder if Dad’s doing okay—she should call. Julia, too. And Kathy. Damn, she has a lot of calls to make.

Something sparks in Tali’s box of wires. The smell of copper and smoke pulls her back to the colony. “That makes sense. Space has always been my home as well. I can’t imagine living groundside for more than a few months.” 

Ada hums. Last time she was on shore leave, she was there, what, a month? A month, and then she got bored. Itchy. Needed to get out, get into a ship or a station or somewhere new. Looks like she has a lot more in common with Tali than she thought.

“Yeah, I hear you. I only last a couple weeks groundside at best.”

Tali’s hands still, and the pins of light under her helmet flick to the ground. Suddenly, she looks a lot smaller. “If my people ever reclaim Rannoch, I … I hope I’d like it there.”

Oh. Right. _Rannoch_. God, even though groundside makes her restless—having the option, having a place and friends and family there, solid ground under her feet? Yeah. Can’t even imagine how unstable that must feel, being without that. 

“I hope you get the chance to find out someday, Tali.”

“So do I.” She sighs, shutting the box of wires and dusting off her suit _._ “Thank you for keeping me company, Commander. I’ll go ask around and see if they need anything else worked on. See you later!”

Ada watches her head off, box of tools in her hand, shoulders tall, chin up. Tali sounded so homesick there for a sec. Homesick, lonely, and she never really talks to anyone on the Normandy. Keeps to the edges, but then she asks questions like that about Earth, and then she retreats again. Like she wants to reach out but doesn’t know if Ada’s gonna lash out or something.

_That doesn’t feel right._

She can’t bring back her homeworld, can’t even pretend that she could, but what she can do—she can visit engineering more often. Check in, see if she does want company, or if she’s okay with all the space, or anything at all.

Yeah. That’s a promise. More engineering visits it is.

* * *

Ada stares at the murky wall of blue. Damn. No way she can shoot through that, so another way in it is. They just need to push through here, find Lizbeth, the data, and figure out what Saren wants with this place. She turns to Williams and Alenko, an order in the back of her throat, when she notices _._

Alenko’s staring at the barrier, shoulders slumped—just an inch, but it sure isn’t the same strong, controlled stance he’s been holding all day—and Williams is scowling at the floor, flecks of ash in her hair, shadows on her face. Through the blasted roof, Ada glances up at the smoke-choked sky. Hazy darkness is rolling in over the ruins. 

Shit. They’re tired as all hell. 

Williams clears her throat. “Ma’am? Orders?”

A shake of her head, and it’s decided. “We’re setting up camp.”

“Are you sure, Commander? We can push through—” 

Ada puts a hand up, stopping Alenko. “I know you can, Alenko, but there’s no need. We’ll fight way better rested and in daylight anyway.” She nods towards a well-protected corner of the ruins. Well, as much as protection as scattered blocks of cement can offer. “Come on. Let’s eat dinner.”

* * *

Alenko’s gaze won’t stop sweeping the half-dark ruins, that frown stuck on his face. Ada finishes fishing out the sandwiches she packed, and nudges him with her ash-stained boot. “Hey, here. Hope you like BLT’s.”

He blinks, holding the sandwich carefully. Like it’s not real or something. What, he’s never had a BLT? He glances at Williams. “Wait. BLT’s? How did you—?”

“Got a couple extra supplies on the Citadel before we left. And don't worry—I left some in the fridge for the rest of the crew. I'm not trying to play favorites here. Just wanted to eat something that wasn’t crap rations, and I wasn’t just gonna hoard all the good food for myself. Go ahead, dig in.”

_God help me, I hope I’m not being too much. Am I—?_

Williams glances at her, glances at Alenko, and then grins big, taking a huge bite out of hers. Ada tries her own sandwich—lettuce is a little wilted, and the tomatoes aren’t great. Would’ve been perfect if she could’ve gotten ingredients from Earth, not the ones grown on the Citadel, but it’ll have to do. Williams and Alenko don’t seem to mind: they’re quietly eating, and looking a little less weary now. Good.

The lamp in the middle of them flickers. Williams wipes her mouth. “Damn, Shepard. Are BLT’s gonna be standard on missions? This a Spectre perk or something?”

“Yeah, no, sorry. You’ll still have to eat rations most of the time. But I’ll try to change it up sometimes. Hell knows the Alliance needs all the help it can get in the food department.”

“Yeah. I’m not sure they know the definition of the word _food,_ ” mutters Alenko, folding his napkin into a neat square. Neat, perfect. Williams leans her head on a chunk of cement, eyes drifting half-closed.

“I know. Sometimes I wish I’d enlisted as a culinary specialist just to show them that there’s more to food than nutrition macros,” Ada huffs out, fiddling with the edge of the tupperware.

Alenko leans forward, eyes a little brighter now. Or maybe that's just the reflection of the lamp. “You like cooking, ma’am?”

She smile big. “I do, yeah. I love the experimentation part, you know? All the flavor possibilities. I learned from my dad—he’s been a chef in the Alliance for decades. You into it, too?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. My mom’s all about food, so she showed me the ropes.”

“Any favorite—? Oh! Speaking of food, before I forget.” She digs through her pack, and pulls out three powerbars. Tosses one to Williams, and hands the densest one to Alenko. Peanut-butter and chocolate. “I brought these. I've heard fighting with biotics uses up a hell of a lot of energy, and calories are a must, so eat up, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, thank you. Ma’am. Appreciate it,” Alenko says, quiet, his cheeks flushed a shade darker than before. 

“No problem.”

She bites into her powerbar and glances at Alenko—who’s still blushing. _Hm. So Alenko really isn’t about being the center of attention._ It’s kind of, well, cute, the way he’s blushing—if she was gonna go there, which she isn’t _._

_Professional boundaries, Shepard. Remember?_

Her shoulders slump a little. Yeah. Yeah, she remembers.

* * *

No signs of movement. No signs of anything for hours now. Ada glances back at the sleeping figure of Alenko, tucked in his sleeping bag. Finally getting some shut-eye. 

She runs her tongue over her cracked, chapped lips. Damn. _That’s_ what she forgot to pack: her lip-balm. She glances over at Williams, who’s checking out the barrier for the sixth time. She walks over to her, trying to tread lightly. Like that’s easy with steel boots.

“How’s the barrier looking?”

Williams straightens, glancing over at Alenko. Keeps her voice low. “Same as it was two hours ago, ma’am. Any updates on your side?”

“Nope. All quiet.” The skin on her lips pulls and burns. _Ugh_. “You happen to have any lip-balm on you? Forgot mine.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” She digs around her leg-pocket, and hands her a little tube of the stuff. SPF and vanilla.

“Thanks.” Ada rubs some on her finger, applying it to her chapped lips. Instant relief, the cracked dryness soothed. She hands it back and they both stare into the barrier, its faint hum filling the place.

Williams clears her throat. “I just wanted to say I appreciate the break and the good food, Commander. I’m not used to my superiors—well. Not used to them actually giving a damn about me.”

She blinks, her heart tugging. Guess she didn’t realize a sandwich would be clearing the bar of decent CO. “Oh. Of course. I’m aware the nice lunch wasn’t exactly protocol—I’m not trying to bribe or pressure anyone with BLT’s, but god knows I’ve had my fair share of crappy CO’s, too. I’m trying to avoid that with my own crew.”

“Feel free to bribe us all you want with BLT’s, ma’am. You’ll get no reports from me,” Williams replies on a wink, and Ada can’t help but laugh a little, a warm, soft sound in the middle of the damp dark ruins.

“I might just take you up on that, Williams, careful,” she says, and nods towards the spot where Alenko’s asleep. She should probably cut this short before she forgets they’re on a high-risk mission, because talking to Williams feels so damn easy, like a friend she’s known her whole life.

“Okay, Chief. You’re up. Go switch with Alenko and get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long one.”

Williams gives her a steady nod. “Aye aye. Sleep it is.” 

Ada watches her walk off, nudge Alenko and speak soft. Her heart melts soft against her will, like with Tali this morning, and Joker, and all of them, and right that second, she knows. Even with the way she’s gotta toe the line of boundaries, regs and power dynamics—

She’ll do anything for them. For her crew.

Anything. 

* * *

_Blistered flesh and fried wires. A screeching emanating from everywhere. Slamming a heel into a scaled neck, deep-green vines cradling the broken head._

Stairs in front of her, but she stumbles, and the—the—blistered flesh, the fucking _screaming—_

“Shit, you okay, Commander?” 

Williams’ face, blurry. In front of her, not blistered, not scaled, not far away. Alenko at the edges.

What the hell was she doing? Something important. Mission. Mission, the Cipher, getting back to the Normandy.

_Can’t—I can’t—_

“I’m—I’m fine, Chief. We need to. Move.” 

_A damp forest, a razor-straight line of marching silhouettes razing with fire and beam, ships blotting out the sky. Blotting out every sky. Windows shatter, and—_

Fractured images force through her, pushing against the edges of her damn skull. Her stomach lurches. They’re too much. Too much _. Fuck!_ The Cipher thing, she didn’t know—she didn’t know it was gonna do this to her. If she’d known, she wouldn’t have— 

_Fucking deal with it, Shepard._

Pain lances up her shoulder when she slams it into more cement, a doorway, out, she needs _out._ Her breathing labored, thin, sucking in smoke and ash and damp air but it’s too goddamn much. Caved-in faces and hellish screeching and thorned vines wrapped around her brain, eating through the soft gray, it’s too big, it’s going to split her fucking brain open or she’ll puke it all out or— 

“Shepard, hold on. We can wait here until the Cipher settles in.”

Alenko now, closer, no forest and no marching troops and no shattered window. She grits her teeth, shoves herself forward, but her legs are shaking. Weak. _Damn it. I just need to—_

Williams, grasping her shoulder. Sitting her down. And this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. This isn’t— 

_Voices shout, thin with terror. Ships descend, a mouth full of teeth grinning sharp, cold. Gaunt, beaten frames bow down in front of it._

Eyes stinging, her hand presses into her clammy forehead. A forehead that’s pounding, her mouth dry, the teeth grinning sharp, the looming— 

_Make it stop. Please  
_

“Would water help?” Alenko’s gravelled voice pulls at her, reaching her through the tangle, the ringing in her ears. 

A tight, desperate nod—yeah sure she’ll try _anything_ —and she grabs the metal bottle, tips her head back. The cool water slides down her scratchy throat, and for a sec, the dense, barbed wall shoving its way through her head slows down. Stops pushing so hard against her skull. She presses the cool metal of the bottle into her cheek. Focuses on that.

“Need. Need a sec. Sorry.”

“No problem. The colony can wait. Would food be good? I’ve got an extra apple.” Williams says, putting a hand on her back. The weight of it’s better. Better than the teeth. Flames. Vines. Ships.

“Not hungry. You have any—any gum?”

Alenko’s hand in front of her, a piece of blue gum. “Here. Should help if you’re nauseous.”

She bites into it. Squeezes her eyes shut centers in on the sharp, minty taste, but it’s mixed with the grinning mouth full of teeth, and the echoes of thin, broken screaming, and— _what the fuck is the Cipher thing doing to me?_

Chewing. Mint. Chewing and mint and chewing. Williams’ and Alenko’s voices filter in, soft and steady, and she can’t—can’t _care_ about boundaries right now, can’t, because this fucking hurts, and their voices are the only things that don’t. 

They talk. She chews, focusing hard on each bite, each twinge of her jaw. The fractured web of images and noise and looming ships reduce to snapshots, no sound, no screeching. She can deal with snapshots. Maybe.

She blinks open her eyes after—she has no idea how long. Her head’s still throbbing, and her jaw’s bruised and aching like someone kicked her, but her skull feels stronger. Less like it’s gonna crack into pieces. Whatever the Cipher transferred to her about the Protheans still doesn’t make any damn sense, but if she can just hold it back at the edges of her brain, if she doesn’t look right at it, she can make it back to the Normandy. Figure something out with T’Soni. 

And Alenko and Williams are still next to her. They didn’t leave her. _Thank god._

“I’m okay now. Sorry about that.”

Williams gives her a nod, gaze softer than she’s seen it. “No need to apologize, Shepard. We’re just glad you’re okay. Let’s get you back to the ship, alright? I’m sure the doc will help you make sense of whatever you saw.”

Sticking by her side, they walk with her all the way to the briefing room.


	3. Warm Soft Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada gets overwhelmed after a long week. Kaidan's a good listener.

The water boils in the kettle. Ada blankly watches it splash into her mug, the hot steam washing over her cheeks. Alright. Okay. Some chamomile tea and she’ll be fine. She’ll go back to sleep, and she’ll wake up refreshed tomorrow. Simple as that.

The muscles in her jaw stab, hard, like they’re trying to goddamn _test_ her. 

A deep, slow breath and she loosens her overworked jaw. Gingerly puts the teabag in her mug and stirs in the honey, spoon clinking against ceramic. 

She’ll be fine. Just needs to sleep. The Cipher settled in okay—well, after Liara’s help, and a two-day headache—and it’s more implicit knowledge about the Protheans than anything else. So if she doesn’t think about that too hard, it’s fine. A culture of conquest and snippets of language and a war of desperation. If she just keeps it at the edges, she should be able to sleep just fine.

_The geth took another base this morning. Their scout ships were spotted way too close to the edges of the Terminus. They’re advancing. Fast._

She’s at the table now, hands tightening on the mug, knuckles white. Damn it. The geth, pushing to invade, probably on Saren’s orders. _That’s_ what she can’t stop thinking about now—they seriously need to hurry. If they don’t do this right—no, if _she_ doesn’t do this right, doesn’t give the right orders, make the right calls—the geth are gonna take more and more bases. Kill god knows how many people. And it’s been, what, two months since she took charge of this mission? And they still haven’t tracked down Benezia, Saren’s still at large, and the geth keep getting stronger. She glances back at the sink. Yeah, maybe this isn’t the time to be drinking tea or worrying about her sleep schedule. Working. She _needs_ to be working.

“Commander, hey.” 

She startles, but it’s just Kaid—Lieutenant Alenko. He walks over to the kitchen and starts rummaging through the cupboards, and she does her best not to stare. Not at his messy hair, not at the smooth strand sticking to his forehead and how it’s cute, because she isn’t gonna go there. Can’t. Because god, she doesn’t need another thing to worry about. 

The beige tea in front of her. That’s what she’s gotta focus on. Not on him. _Not on him, Shepard. Come on._

“Oh, Alenko, hi. Thought you went to bed a couple hours ago.”

“Yeah, I tried, but I’m still getting used to a normal sleep schedule after my last post. A year of night shift is tough to shake off.”

“Mm. That’s understandable.”  
  
He gets out a protein bar and lingers by the countertop. Why is he lingering? “What about you? Can’t sleep either?”

She finally looks over at him, because it’s getting weird how long she’s been staring at her tea, and _damn_ it. He’s looking at her with that lined frown on his face, with those eyes full of steadiness, just like the hallway, and Feros, and dozens of dark, flickering mining tunnels, and. And she needs to think about work. Geth. Not him. Not about his dishevelled hair, not about how every time he walks into the mess she’s gotta force herself to stop smiling like an idiot, not about this morning when she caught him cursing at his omni in French. He’s funny, and smart, and easy to talk to, but none of that is relevant. It can’t be. Work is important. _Work._

“Uh. Ma’am?”

Shit. Right. What did he ask again? Sleep?

“Oh, yeah, no. Couldn’t sleep either. Just thinking about the geth incursions. Wanted some tea to wind down.”

He glances towards the kettle and it’s still half-full. He could stay. He could. Something good to shake off the day before they go to bed. Something that isn’t staring at another report.

She exhales slowly. _Alright. Fine. As long as I don’t cross any lines—it’s just two teammembers having tea. No harm done._

“There’s some hot water left if you’d like some. I wouldn’t mind the company.”  
  
A couple minutes later and he’s sitting in front of her, hands wrapped around his own speckled mug. The scent of mint and chamomile curl through the air, and she still has her gaze locked on the table.

Alenko’s the one that breaks the silence. “This whole geth thing is pretty stressful. I’d be worried too. I mean, a potential invasion? Yeah. No thanks. No wonder you can’t sleep.”

“Yeah. Yeah, if we don’t stop it here, I can’t even count how many people might die. And god knows that’s not why I joined the Alliance.” She digs her nails into the ceramic, mind skittering off, and she can’t stop nights of pressure and gripped tension from spilling out. Can’t help herself. “God, this _sucks._ Whole reason I’m here is to stop shit like Saren and the geth from happening, not to just _let_ it, and if anyone has to go through what my mom or the people on colonies like Mindoir did—I don’t know. I can’t let that happen, but it feels like it’s going to.” 

“Wait. Your mom? Is she doing alright?”

Her eyes dart up to Alenko’s, a jolt of panic shooting up her back. _Wait, shit, did I say something about Mom? This was supposed to be small talk, something easy before we go to bed, not a vent session—_

His gaze. It’s that same steadiness. That same feeling of having her feet planted on the ground. She’s talking before she’s able to think twice about it. 

“It’s nothing that serious. She’s fine now. But she was part of the reason I joined, you know?”

“How so?” 

A deep breath. “Well, after my parents split, I went through a phase for a couple years. Back in high school. A typical Navy brat rebellion, pretty much. Drinking, partying, the whole nine yards. Stupid teenage crap.” She swallows, mouth dry— _b_ _ad idea; he’ll walk away—_ but Kaidan’s expression stays warm. Stays focused on her. “Then my mom—she was a shuttle pilot—got hurt. Nothing critical, but her shuttle got shot down and she got a couple fractures. Needed surgery.”

“Damn. That must’ve been really scary. Was your dad there?”  
  
“No, he was back in Arizona, and we were on Arcturus at that point. So it was just me.” 

“Oh. You were alone through all that?” 

The gentle way he says that—like it’s important— _does_ something to her: her heart grips. Her eyes sting. She’s small, alone, freezing in a waiting room and no one’s picking up her calls.

_Whoa, hey, what the fuck—_

She clears her throat, shoving away the strange, crushing feeling in her chest. _Shut up._

“Yeah, but I only had to wait a couple hours, so it wasn’t a big deal. My point is, that whole thing was a big reason why I enlisted. Realizing my family wasn’t as safe as I’d thought, that awful shit around the galaxy kept happening, and that I could actually _do_ something about it. I didn’t have to party my life away—I could work towards preventing bad things from happening. Try to, at least. So. Yeah. That’s why I’m here, and why I’m sure as hell not gonna mess this whole Saren mission up. I can’t.”

Kaidan hums—wait, when did she start calling him Kaidan?—and traces the side of his mug with his thumb. “I get that. You want to honor your reasons for joining up. Keep people safe. Stop the geth and Saren. Must be a lot of pressure, though.” 

“It does get overwhelming sometimes. It’s hard to—” A sleeper pod hisses, sharp, cutting her off. And it hits her, what she just spilled to one of her officers: fear. _Doubt._ Oh, _fuck,_ this is exactly what she promised she wouldn’t do. No crossing lines, no making this complicated. She’s in this with her crew, yeah, but she is still their CO, so she needs to retain some semblance of having her shit together. They need to trust her. Trust that she can _do_ this. She straightens her back and lifts her chin. “But I’m not gonna crack or anything. I can handle it, so I don’t want you to worry, Alenko. I’m fine.”

“Oh. I’m not worried about that. Honestly? It’s nice to know you’re human like the rest of us.” His eyes flick to their cold tea and then back to her. There’s a kindness held in his crinkled eyes that seeps into the grip in her chest, that soothes the worst edges of it. “This mission’s overwhelming as hell, but for whatever it’s worth—we’re with you. You’ve got a ship full of people right by your side. We’ll stop the geth. And Saren.”

She inhales the chamomile, letting his words soak in. Okay. Yeah. She’s okay. Kaidan’s still here, and he got it, and the world didn’t crumble just because she was a little negative with him.

Everything’s okay right now. 

“Thanks. Really.”


	4. Old Bruise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada's past as the hero of Elysium sneaks up on her. This time around, she isn't alone.

The lights in the mineshaft flicker, and Ada’s boots pound through puddles and collapsed rubble. Blood rushing through her head, she thanks every star she can think of that Ashley and Kaidan are right behind her: Kaidan’s calm movements while the timer ticked down, Ashley’s determined disassembling of the bomb’s shell. If Ada had been alone, well. She’d probably be vapor right now.

She punches the green button, and rusty metal opens up into the blasted, rocky landscape. The searing red light from the sun floods every crevice of this place. 

_Now Haliat gets to see just what an N7 can do._

“Spread out! Focus on the snipers. I’ll take Haliat!” 

“Commander, we—”

She charges out into gunfire, strong thighs surging, instincts honed and sharp. Green camo, the blue of a visor: _there_.

_Liam clinks his bubbly cider with hers, big green eyes sparkling, red curls glinting under the light. His earrings of choice on this shore leave are studs that look like juicy orange slices, and she kind of wants to steal them. He glances towards the pool table and his mouth spreads into a mischievous grin—yeah, she’ll have to watch it and make sure he doesn’t rig the game. Again. Though it is fun watching him get all bouncy when he wins._

Haliat dodges another shot from her rifle, rushing behind a supply crate. She grits her teeth, shaking off the memory.

 _Focus_. Haliat. He is not gonna get away from her. She won’t let him.

She whips around the corner, slamming the butt of her rifle into him. He stumbles, cursing, but doesn’t stop his scrambled running. Barks something on comms.

_Liam lifts his cue over his head and dances around the table, spinning, smiling, pale cheeks pink. “Hah! I win, Ada! You owe me twenty—” Glass shatters. The red of fire and heat. Liam’s slumped on the ground and the air’s thick with the smell of burned hair and blood. Shrieks all around her, and the pool cue is broken on the floor._

Her pulse beats hard in her gums. She aims and fires. Haliat’s shields shatter, but he ducks behind more tents and crates. _Fucking coward._ She’s about to launch towards him, but then Ashley and Kaidan are next to her and Ashley grabs her shoulder, yanking her back.

“Shepard! Wait! He’s got rocket launchers. They’ll take you out before you get halfway there.”

Ada stares at Ashley, thighs still tensed to run. He can’t get away. He _won’t_ do this again.

_Her hands are slippery with blood—Liam’s blood, oh god, oh fuck—as she drags his limp body out of the fire. Into a dark corner behind the bar. She presses her jacket over the blood. His breathing is bad. Stuttery. Which is a bad fucking sign. More gasping, choking bodies near the windows, and she’s checking pulses, she’s scrambling for a first aid kit, blocking off the exits. What the ever-living fuck is happening?_

A resonating _boom_ shakes through the metal of the crate, pushing her deeper into a crouch. “Alright. God, _alright_. Take out the rockets. Then we finish Haliat.”

She digs in. Flecks of mud and dust coat her visor; her arms ache with each shot into the blasted landscape. One rocket launcher down, three to go, and the crate has cracks running through it.

_All she’s got is makeshift, ill-fitting armor and a rifle she found on a slaver’s body. Liam’s blood itches under the too-big gloves, and her own blood is leaking down her bicep, warm, but she can’t stop. Needs to hold them off. Needs to give the Alliance forces and civilian fighters a chance to evac the bar, the hotel, the—fuck, the whole damn colony. Mud’s in her mouth. Wrists are numb. She promised: no more. No more of this bullshit. She digs her aching heels in._

_She’s gotta hold them off. No matter what._

The last fucker with a rocket-launcher goes down and she’s lurching out of cover, sprinting towards the glinting visor, the bloodied lip. Haliat shoots at her, limps, her heart is in her throat, _no more—she promised—_

Haliat’s dead. His glassy eyes stare up at her. Clean, quick. More than he deserved. 

_Liam’s eyes are flat as he stares at the algae-green pond. Bandages hiding raw burns cover his temple. His remaining lung rattles with every breath. “They kicked me out.”_

She’s leaning on the side of the Mako and her legs are fucking heavy. The sun broils and shimmers. Haliat’s dead. Liam’s somewhere far off and she’ll never see him again. Her whole torso aches like someone put it through a meat grinder. Like it did when she sat there in that neat, trimmed hospital garden and stared at a broken kid. A broken friend.

_Captain David Anderson sizes her up from behind his desk, gaze serious. Focused. Just like hers. She keeps her shoulders straight, her chin high. “So. You want to join the N7 program?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_Elysium, Liam—they’ll never happen again. She’ll make sure of it._

“Commander? You okay?” Kaidan, voice soft on comms, tugs her out of her head.

“Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine. That Haliat bastard hurt a lot of people, that’s all. Glad he’s gone. For what he did on Elysium. And to Liam.”

“Liam?”

“Liam. Yeah. He was part of my old squad. A sweet kid, and funny as hell, too. But he got the worst of it during the first wave on Elysium. Ended up burned and with half his lungs, so he got honorably discharged, which … Well. Being an Alliance engineer was his dream, so. It broke his damn heart.” She sighs, her heavy, fuzzy head clunking onto the metal hull of the Mako. She still misses him. Even after all these years.

“Damn, yeah, Skipper. That’s awful. You still in touch with him?” 

“He didn’t want anything to do with the Alliance after he left. Just wanted to forget, so. No.”

Kaidan rolls a rock under his boot, and she can feel his eyes on her. “Makes sense, but it’s still a shame. Always hurts to lose friends like that.”

“Yeah.” She takes one last look at Haliat’s body. A silent prayer to the universe: _I hope no one remembers you._ “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Ashley and Kaidan climb into the Mako behind her. And she isn’t alone. Not anymore.

* * *

“Yes! Another win for the turian. What were you saying about beginner’s luck, Williams?” Garrus’ mandibles flare as he scoops up his chips, the blue light of the armory glinting off the plastic. Wrex huffs, leaning back heavy in his chair. They’re not even betting anything except their pride, but damn, they’re all still so intense about it. Ada munches on the popcorn Ash made. She’s still sore and aching from that close call with Haliat, but this is a good way to get her mind off it. 

Well. Except for the losing. That’s not great.

“You’re too good at poker. It’s annoying,” Ashley murmurs at Garrus, taking a swig from her beer. They’re all technically off-duty right now, and the poker game was Ash’s idea, not Ada’s, so—it’s fine. Professionally fine. Maybe. Probably. 

“I agree with the human. You’re annoying, Vakarian,” Wrex grumbles out, half-shoving Garrus’ shoulder. Ada swallows a smile—they’re getting along a hell of a lot better than she thought they would. Still. Probably good that she’s here to make sure no one ends up with any fractures.

Ada puts the popcorn down. “Alright, you guys, hand over your cards. I’ll shuffle this time.” 

Garrus watches her like a hawk as she stacks the cards, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. “Don’t be so paranoid. I’d never cheat while on my own ship.”

“So you’d cheat while off your ship? Good to know.” 

She’s possessed with the urge to flick a piece of popcorn at him when Ashley beats her to the punch, the kernel of popcorn hitting him square on the forehead.

Garrus snorts, mandibles flaring in what she hopes is a wry smile. “Damn. Can’t believe we’re resorting to physical violence already.”

Ada deals the cards as they keep up their bickering. The drive core hums in the background, a constant, and she feels good. Yeah. She feels good right here, right now. Like she’s at home, here, with them. Even with the balancing-act of command and friendship and professionalism. Even with that always nagging at the back of her head, she’s comfortable. At ease, for once. It’s nice to see Garrus loosening up—maybe finding Dr Saleon helped—and Wrex is getting easier to talk to, now that she’s actually tried. Plus, Ashley’s been a little less reclusive lately, hanging out after dinner, playing poker. Smiling more. Seems like she’s getting some relief from thinking about what happened on Eden Prime. Hopefully, at least. 

“Shepard? Earth to Shepard? You’re up.”

“Hm? Oh. Right.” 

She pushes in her chips. Eats another handful of popcorn. Barks out a laugh at Garrus’ dry joke, at Wrex’s amused grunt.

_I think I could do this forever._


	5. Surface Translations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan drops his guard for a minute, and that scares the hell out of him. Ada wrestles with the burden of command and her own budding feelings towards Kaidan.

Kaidan wants to hide. That’s the thing. He wants to hide. Get off the ship the next time they refuel and never come back. It’s not her fault. Shepard was so understanding. Made him feel safe and _seen_ while he was talking, her voice warm and soft. And she never dropped his gaze. Not once. 

Still. He didn’t know he was gonna tell her. Didn’t plan for it. She was there, and she’s been there for months now, so he just. He just _said_ it. Now he’s pretty sure he’s screwed everything up. 

_I killed him, Shepard. Snapped his neck._

He takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of engine oil and metal. The Mako’s needed some TLC for a while, and Garrus was nice enough to let him work on it for a change. The armory’s empty at this time of night anyway. Just him and the engine. Something predictable. He sweeps his omni over the wires and canisters. He knows he’s being unreasonable. Shepard showed no signs of hating him. No signs of wanting him to get off her ship and never come back. She was nothing but kind. 

His throat tightens. _Rahna was nothing but kind, too, and look what happened._

“Hey, Kaidan.” 

He flinches so hard he slams his head on the hood, dropping his wrench into the engine. Shepard’s right next to him, the smell of green-apple soap and a freshly laundered uniform. Wait, what? Why is she—?

“Shit, sorry! Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Your head okay?”

He grabs a rag and wipes the grease off his hands, the back of his skull pounding. His heart’s pounding, too. Crap. He didn’t plan for _this_ , either. “Oh, uh, yeah, fine. Just wanted to work on the Mako. You know.”

She nods, a half-smile on her face. His stomach tightens and he can barely look at it. At her. “Thanks for keeping it running. God knows I put the poor thing through its paces.” She keeps talking when he doesn’t say anything. Where the hell did his voice go? He wants to hide. Wants to run. “I couldn’t get to sleep, either, so I thought I’d come down here and work on my rifle.”

His throat is a vice. He’s seventeen again, alone, and there’s no reason she’ll stick around. No reason she won’t pack up and leave now that she knows. Now that she _sees_ him and what he really is. And she’s gonna walk. 

Her smile fades. “You doing alright? Sorry if I pushed with the Brain Camp stuff today.” 

_Crap. This is it._

He motions towards the couple of chairs by the req station. They sit down, and she’s tugging at a string on the sleeve of her uniform. 

“I—that’s—” His voice comes out tight and broken. He clears his throat. Stares at the tiled floor and tries again. “That’s not it. It wasn’t you, I mean. I’m worried. That’s all.” 

“Oh. Worried about what?” Her voice is soft. The same voice, the same person he’s been talking to for what feels like forever now. He’s pretty sure that if he looks up, he’ll see a gently curious gaze. Nothing cold. Nothing scared. But what if it was too much? What if she’s afraid he’ll lose control again, or that he can’t keep his crap together, or that he’s pushing the line between her being his CO and a shoulder to lean on a little too much—? 

He takes a deep, steadying breath. _I don't want to shut her out. Not yet._ So. What _is_ he worried about?

“How you see me, I guess. I don’t want this to change things, but … Well. I’d understand if it does. It’s okay if it does.”

_I’m used to it._

She’s quiet for a second, her fingers stilling on her sleeve. His stomach bites. Gnaws. Maybe he misjudged her. Maybe she’s just like Rahna. Like Cam in college. Maybe this is it. This is where it ends. This is where the slow-fade starts, the nervous side-glances, the— 

“It does change how I see you, but not in a bad way. Not at all. Hell, I’d say I respect and trust you even more now, knowing how much you’ve had to overcome to get here. And I’m honored that you’d trust me with something so hard. Seriously, it means a lot.”

His breath catches. She's not—freaked out? He finally brings his gaze up to hers, and all he sees is warmth in her crinkled eyes. A barely-guarded tenderness so big he can’t make sense of it.

_She’s not scared._

The tension melts out of his shoulders, the gnawing worry stilling. Yeah. She isn’t scared. So it wasn’t a figment of his imagination or some lie he was telling himself. She actually _is_ safe. He doesn’t have to worry. Right now, she’s safe.

* * *

Ada weaves through the bar, silvery earrings clinking, glass of tequila sunrise chilly and wet in her hand. Synthy, dark pop leaks from the speakers— _t_ _hank god they have good music here_ —blending with the bustling, warm conversation of the bar. It’s good to see her crew finally getting a couple nights of shore leave after months of base after base. They still don’t have an exact location for Benezia, but they’re getting closer every day, and she knows it’s only a matter of time until they track her down.

But that’s for later. Right now, she’s gotta watch her balance. She’s gotta keep tequila stains on her outfit, too—a dark silky top and tailored, wine-red pants—and then kick Garrus’, Kaidan’s and Ash’s asses at darts. But it’s not like she’s hanging out with just them—everyone on the ship got credits and the same amount of shore leave, no exceptions. As long as she involves the entire crew, it’s not favoritism. Team-building. That’s all. 

Plus. Someone has to make sure Tali doesn’t die from too downing too many shots with Wrex, Liara and Joker. She glances over at the group—they’re over by the pool table, laughing, drinks between them, and everyone’s still alive. For now, at least.

“Alright, got my drink. Time to—wait. Where’d Alenko go?” 

Garrus nods towards the exit, weighing up a dart in his talon. “Said he needed some air. Pretty sure he just knows he’s gonna lose.” 

“You worried, Skipper? Aw. That’s sweet,” Ash says through a smirk, and Ada resolutely ignores what that smirk’s implying, because she’s not going there, and Ashley damn well _knows_ that. 

“I’ll be back in a sec. No changing up the scoreboard while I’m gone, got it?”

Ashley’s grinning now. “Aye aye. Have fun! I’ll look after the crew if you and the Lieutenant want to, y’know, get some _alone time._ ”

A flush of heat creeps up her neckline— _damn it_ —and she levels Ash with a steely look, setting her drink down on the table. “You’re impossible, Williams. I’ll _be right back._ Christ.” 

Outside, the sprawling, neon-sparkly view of the ward stretches out, recycled air cool and comforting against her skin. And there’s Kaidan leaning on the banister—the gentle slope of his shoulders, the collared, ironed-blue shirt he looks way too good in. Not that she should be thinking about that. She walks up, heels clicking on the tile.

“Hey. You alright?”

He looks over at her, eyes bleary. Glassy. Her chest squeezes at the sight of it—she didn’t realize he was so tired. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for interrupting the game. Just needed some air.”

She rubs the silvery, moon-shaped pendant of her necklace between her fingers. The thump of the bar’s music muffled behind them, and she doesn’t— _fuck_. Doesn’t know what to say here. 

“Is, um. Is there anything you need? Or that I can do?”

“Oh, no. Don’t worry.” His mouth pulls into a small, tired smile. The red of the neon lights glints off his dark hair. “It’s not a big deal or anything. Just need space from all the noise and socializing sometimes, that’s all.”

 _Oh._ Her stomach sinks. Why the hell didn’t she notice he wasn’t feeling it? That he needed space? Why’d she—?

“Of course, yeah. That makes sense. I’ll leave you to it.” She pushes off the banister, about to head inside and ignore the pit in her stomach, when he gently, delicately catches her forearm.

“Hey. Thanks for checking in. Really.” His eyes stay steady on her, the touch on her arm warm and soft. 

Her brain goes blank. Warm and soft skin on her wrist—the red of the lights glancing off his smooth, full lips—

She swallows. _Quit thinking about him like that._ What the fuck was she gonna say?

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. Of course. No rush coming back in, okay? I'll keep Ash and Garrus busy.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

His hand falls, and the warmth inside her goes with it.

She’s back in the bar. The touch of his hand lingers, a warm ray of sun on her skin. Ash hands her a dart, cracks a joke, but she only half-hears it. God, she should’ve noticed he was beat. Why’d he decide to—? 

Her blood runs cold.

_What if he only agreed to come with us tonight because he felt pressured?_

_Shit_. She’s tried to keep her feelings out of this, tried to make sure she’s not crossing any lines, but—maybe she’s been slipping up. It’s not like she’s been the most detached or professional CO in the galaxy or anything, so who knows what kinds of messages she’s been sending. What if he’s only reciprocating because she’s his boss? Flirting back, reciprocating the small touches—could be an obligation for him. Something he thinks he has to do or else he’ll get in trouble. Her heart pounds in her throat, the game of darts fading away, drink souring in her mouth. She hopes that’s not the case, but if there’s even a remote possibility of him feeling obligated? Pressured? 

She needs to put a stop to it. Now.


	6. Shift in the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada and Kaidan stumble into a conversation they never expected to have.

Kaidan trails Ada to the lockers, legs heavy and skin overheated under his armor. Another Cerberus base full of needles, husks and tubes shut down, which is good, but still. They could try investing in air-conditioning. 

“Goddamn, that place was hotter than hell. You’d think Cerberus could afford some A/C,” Ada sighs out what he’s thinking, pulling off her helmet. Her hair’s stuck to her forehead, cheeks flushed pink. His stomach tightens, a spark of heat curling up and—he looks away. Focuses on undoing the clasps on his breastplate. Not on her. They’re teammates. She’s his CO. That’s it. Has to be it. God knows he doesn’t want to ruin what they have already, which is good, and _safe,_ and— 

He tries to find words. “Yeah. Guess they spent all their budget on evil lab equipment instead.” 

She snorts. Kaidan’s focusing hard on the shiny clasps of his armor, fingers clumsy, but he can still—he can still _feel_ her body radiating heat next to him. _Focus, Alenko. Get your damn armor off already._ Arm-plates stored neat. Gloves. He’s reaching down to unclasp his thigh-plate when his shoulder bumps into hers. 

Static charge sparks at the point of contact. 

Ada stands up quick, blinking at him. “Oh, huh, sorry, I—”  
  
“No, it’s not you. My biotic field gets a little static-happy sometimes. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. No harm done.” Her fingers trace the spot where their shoulders met. He’s about to say something when they’re close. Closer than they were a second ago. So close he notices how the hushed light of the armory deepens the ocean-blue in her eyes, and the freckles peppering her face are clear as day. Her gaze flicks to his lips, or maybe that’s just his imagination, but he wants to brush the hair from her forehead, tuck it behind her ear—

She steps back. Distance, air between them.

“Alenko, hey. I need to talk to you.” 

His stomach drops. _Alenko._ That can’t be good. Maybe she’s noticed his feelings. He thought he was keeping it under wraps, but—maybe not. Crap. He glances around the armory. Wrex lumbered off right after getting out of the Mako, muttering something about how he was starving to death, and most of the crew are upstairs in the mess. He tries to breathe through his tight lungs. Well. At least he won’t have an audience for this.

“So, okay. I’m not really sure how to say this, but—I’m your superior. So there’s a power dynamic here, right? And it’s my responsibility to ensure my crew feels safe on my ship. No pushing boundaries too far, no playing favorites, no making the rest of the crew uncomfortable. But lately, I’ve been...” She runs a hand through her sweaty hair, face serious, lined, and he feels a little dizzy. “I’ve been pushing the line lately between talking and, well, flirting with you. And because I’m your CO, that might’ve put pressure on you to be reciprocal, and that’s not okay. I just wanted to let you know that I'm aware, and that I'll stop.”

Wait. She … _What?_ He stands there. Stunned, mind blank. She thought she was pressuring him? That his feelings aren’t real, are, what, obligation? Yeah, he’s had the whole power dynamic thing in mind, but—god, he thought _he_ was being too much, he was pushing boundaries, with the flirting, the small touches, the glancing at her across the hall. Not her. 

“I, uh. So what you’re saying is you feel like you’ve been inappropriate with me, and that I might’ve felt pressured because you’re my CO. Right?”

“Exactly. I’d never want you to feel that way, so I’ll back off. And I want you to know if it happens again, you can say no, or walk away, or tell me to quit it, too. No consequences, professionally or otherwise. I’ll make sure of that.” She looks right at him, serious, unflinching. He takes a deep breath. She really is scared that she crossed a line with him. Damn.

“I’m glad you’re taking your responsibility seriously, but—I’ve never felt pressured into anything. Not once. And I know I can always say no to you. I get that you’re my CO, that we’ve gotta be careful with keeping this all above-board, but. I dunno. Spending time with you isn’t an obligation. I like, well, _you_.”

She blinks at him owlishly. Some of the weighty seriousness in her face falls away. “Oh. Oh. Okay. Well, that’s good to hear. I really like you too, Kaidan, and I’m glad you haven’t felt pressured. Still. I’ll watch myself a little more from here on out. It’s my job to be careful with this stuff, not yours. ” 

“Okay, but I—”

Wait. Wait. Did she say— _I_ _really like you, too?_

A hush falls over him. Over the armory. The hum of the drivecore fading out, the beep of Ash’s half-shut terminal dissolving. His words. Her words. The admission they just stumbled into, filling every corner of the ship. All the space in between them.

_Oh my god._

Ada stares at him, like she’s seeing him for the first time, and his heart thuds at her wide, unguarded gaze. “Wait. We. We feel the same way. It wasn’t just pressure, or obligation. You actually … This is mutual.”

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s mutual.” The words feel new, sweet, strange in his mouth. _Mutual._ Thought he was making it up. Thought it was so off the table he’d never even see it.

She moves closer, smiles a little and then a little more, and his breath catches in his throat—

Then she goes stiff. Steps back, smile sliding off her face. The sweetness inside him disappears, the sound of the drivecore intrudes.

“Shit. _Shit._ This is mutual, but we can’t do anything about it. There’s regs, and they’re there for a reason. Friendship’s one thing, but something more? We can’t. We … Can’t.” Her shoulders fall, and he feels every word sit heavy on his chest. Heavy, knowing she’s right.

“I know. We can’t risk it. Not now, not...” An idea dawns on him. A stupid idea, but he’s saying it before his filter can kick back in. “Well, there is after this mission is done. Shore leave.”

“Shore leave?”

Unbidden, he sees it before him: her hand in his at the pier. Cooking together, music humming in the background. Buying flowers in the early morning, an extra toothbrush in his place. Watching movies on the couch, popcorn and beer, strolling under the streetlights and stars. No regs, no uniforms, no power dynamics. 

Just him, her, and the whole galaxy stretched out in front of them.

He swallows, hard. He should’ve shut up. Stupid idea, but he can’t get it out of his head now. She’s looking at him intense and wide, and he can’t stop talking now. “It’s not the best idea, but—maybe after this mission’s done. If we don’t all die, well. I imagine we’ll get reassigned, so you wouldn’t be my CO anymore. We could take some shore leave, and maybe then we could give this—us—a real shot.” His eyes dart to the floor, heat pricking at the back of his neck. “It’s a stupid idea. It’s okay if you want to leave things here. No hard feelings.”

“I think that might work, actually.”

His head snaps up. He hear that right? She’s—smiling, eyes shining with a brightness that hits him square in the chest, and he did hear that right, didn’t he? 

“Wait. Wait. You’re serious? It’s okay if you don’t want—”

She stops him, brushing his arm for the briefest of seconds. Electricity shoots up into his shoulder. “I’m serious. There’d be no chain-of-command issues with shore leave and a reassignment. No power dynamics. We could just—explore this without worrying about it. What we have.”

_Explore what we have._

Hazy sunlight blooms in his chest, the tangle of fear smoothed over. A shining, steady future at her side rising up before him.

He smiles, soft. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”


	7. Gathering Dusk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noveria brings Ada, Ashley, and Liara together.

“This is highly unusual, Williams.”

“Mm. Agreed. You’re a bad influence on me, Ash,” Ada says, but she’s sinking into the steaming hot tub anyway, dark bathing suit on. Her freezing muscles ease up, the warm water enveloping them. _God, finally_. Noveria’s an ice-cold nightmare, so it’s a blessing they have a couple of these hot tubs in the hotel. And that Ash suggested they stop by, even if it’s the most non-protocol, kind-of-insane thing Ada’s done with her crew yet. She did give the rest of the crew leave on Noveria too, so it’s not like she’s totally leaning into the favoritism, but—still.

She just hopes she isn’t fucking anything up too badly.

Liara’s finally got herself down into the tub, but she’s so tense she looks like she might as well be stuck in hell. 

“What, you’ve never been to a spa?” Ashley asks Liara, sipping at her glass of sparkling, lemon-flavored water. 

“Well, no, but that’s not—shouldn’t we be focused on Benezia? She is right there at Peak 15. We should drive and—”

“And die in a blizzard in the middle of the night?” Ada pushes back, but her gaze softens as she looks at the poor kid, stiff as a statue. “Listen. I know the whole spa thing’s probably weird, and that you’re worried about your mom, but I do know that we can’t be driving out there right now. I don’t like slowing down on missions either, especially with so much at stake. But we’ve gotta wait ‘til daybreak or we won’t get to Peak 15 at all. I thought a little R&R for the crew might be nice while we’re stuck in this port, that’s all.”

Liara hums, sinking a little lower into the bubbling water, chin grazing the surface of it. “I suppose you’re right. Dying in a blizzard would be less than ideal. And this _is_ nice, Shepard. It isn’t weird. Much warmer than the lobby.”

“That’s the spirit, T’Soni,” Ash quips, nudging Liara’s knee. “And drink your lemon water. It’s surprisingly good.”

“So we simply sit here?”

“Yeah. We do. And talk. So, you heard about Alenko and the Commander yet?”

Ada half-chokes on her water, ice-cubes in her glass rattling. _How the hell does she know already?_ “You keep saying you aren’t a gossip, Chief, but oh my god. Was it Adams that spilled this time? Damn. I knew he wouldn’t keep quiet.”

“Yeah, maybe, but come on. It’s not even gossip. I just wanted to update the doc that you guys actually talked about it. It’s big news!”

Liara squints at Ashley through the steam and Ada kind of wants to sink to the bottom of the hot tub. God, she knew word would get around eventually, but she didn’t expect it to happen so damn _fast_. 

“Their relationship, obviously. And how they’re gonna put duty and regs over personal feelings and wait ‘til shore leave and their reassignments. God, it’s so romance novel-y it’s kind of nauseating.”

She aims for Ashley’s shin in the water, heat flushing her cheeks. “Ash. I’m literally sitting _right here._ ”

“And?” 

“And—god, nevermind. You’re unstoppable,” she mutters, leaning her head on the wall. Liara says something sweet about being happy for them, musing about the differences between asari and Alliance regs, and yeah, it could’ve been worse. Maybe. At least the rumor is that she’s _waiting_ to get with Alenko, and not that they were caught fraternizing or something. That would’ve been way more of a damn mess.

Her eyes slip closed, letting Liara’s and Ash’s conversation lull her. The steam sinks into her skin, and the air smells like mint and clean granite. Mm. She wasn’t planning on having a spa day with her ground team when she woke up this morning, but here they are. And it is nice. Getting a minute to breathe, her crew—her friends—by her side. Gossip or not.

Yeah. Once this is all over? Maybe she’ll try this more often.

* * *

“I’m fine, Commander. Thank you for coming to see me, but there’s no need to worry.” 

Liara—she’s not moving. Shoulders stiff, hands clasped behind her back, eyes unblinking. Her terminal’s open behind her, a report glowing on the screen. They left Noveria last night, and Liara’s been holed up in here, refusing to see anyone ‘til now. Ada swallows, throat tight. Fuck. This is bad. She didn’t know how they were going to handle Benezia, but she was hoping with every fibre of her being that it wouldn’t come to this. _Anything_ but this. 

“Liara, hey. You don’t have to be fine, you know. That was hell. Worse than hell. We’re here, that’s all. If you ever need us.”

“I appreciate it. But we must stop Saren. My mother, she needed me to stop him. My—mother.” Her eyelids flutter. And then her gaze is glistening, cracked open with a pain so big it kicks Ada in the stomach and knocks her breath out. _Oh, god. Liara._ “My mother needed me. She … And I could not … I had to kill her. Shepard. I had to. Kill her. That does not make sense. That is not supposed to happen. I love her. Daughters are not supposed to kill mothers that they love. I—!” 

Liara’s stumbling forward and before Ada can help it, her arms are wrapping strong and steady around her trembling frame. Professional boundaries be fucking _damned_ right now. “I—had to kill her. I had to kill her. She’s dead. She—she—” Broken, heaving sobs seep into Ada’s uniform. Leak into her heart and break it right open.

She sucks in a shaky breath. _Little wing. This shouldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening to her._ ”I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so _sorry_ , Liara.” 

Liara just buries her face into Ada’s neck, her whole body shaking with it—an ache so big there’s no telling where it starts and ends for her. She stays there, hands dug into Ada’s back, until the door hisses open. Breaks the heavy, crushed trance.

Ash. She walks in. Her face falls the second she sees the state Liara’s in.

“Oh, God. Stay here, okay? I’m gonna get the whiskey.”

Ash comes back. Pours them three glasses of spiced whiskey, and Ada doesn’t say shit, because what the hell does protocol matter right now? They drink until the walls go fuzzy, until the floor looks like a good place to sit. 

Liara’s head goes limp on Ada’s shoulder, bloodshot eyes slipping shut. 

“Mother ... I’m so sorry.”

* * *

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” 

Ashley stops fiddling with her rifle. Virmire’s suffocating mid-morning sun glances off her face, bead of sweat trickling down her temple as she looks over at Ada. “Who, Liara?”

“Yeah. I can’t—god. I can’t get her sobs out of my head. Losing her mom like that…” 

_I don’t think I’d survive it._

“I know. It’s brutal stuff,” Ash says, eyes stuck on the palm-filled cliffs. “It’s different for every person, but—I do think she’ll be okay. Eventually. Might be something Liara carries forever, but she’ll learn how to carry it. I hope.” 

Ada stares at the turquoise water, head foggy, heart aching. Hasn’t stopped aching for days, because Liara shouldn’t have to carry this. No one should.

“I just don’t know what to do. She said she wanted to keep working, and I get that, but still. I feel pretty lost. I’ve never really dealt with anything like this before.”

“Well, you’re listening to her, right? That’s what counts. Plus, when my dad died, the one thing that made it a little more bearable was having my sisters around. We stuck together. So we’ll stick with Liara, too. Well. Unless you’re planning on dropping us after this mission, ma’am.” Ash knocks her shoulder with hers, but her face is still serious, tense. Like she isn’t just kidding around.

“No, don’t worry. We’re crew. Friends. No way in hell I’d drop you, even if we do end up getting reassigned.”

“Good. And, hey, my mom took us on this nice beach vacation a couple months after Dad died, too. Didn’t fix anything, but it was a nice change of scenery. Let me be sad somewhere else. So. If you ever wanna use that fancy Spectre salary for something…”

Ada half-heartedly snorts, side-eyeing her. “You want me to use my Spectre salary to take the crew on a beach vacation? To help out Liara?”

“Well, after we blow Saren up, we’re gonna need some R&R, Commander. I’m just saying you should consider it. It’d be a good teambuilding exercise.”

“You know I’m not a fan of the beach.” But she’s smiling a little more now at the thought—Liara drinking a sangria, chatting low with Tali, some of the heavy tension in her shoulders lifted. Ash sleeping in the shade nearby. Garrus and Wrex trying to play volleyball without killing each other. Joker eating mango ice cream under the sun, laughing with the Draven sisters. Kaidan with his hand in Ada’s, face lit by the glow of a bonfire. “Mm. Actually, I might make an exception. Damn, now I actually kind of want to do this.” 

“Wait, you’re serious, Skipper?”

“Well, maybe.” She inhales deep, letting the smell of salt and sand wash through her. She gives Ash a steady nod. “Let’s stop Saren first, okay? Then we’ll talk about a beach vacation. Come on.”  
  
Ash nods back, determination set in the lines of her face, the sun glowing big and bright behind her. “Let’s do this, ma’am.”


	8. Freefall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virmire doesn't go as planned.

Cold.

The briefing room’s cold. Floor, gray. The skin at the edges of Ada’s thumb is bright red, swollen, but there’s no sting. 

She stands there, immobile. Staring at the red, angry skin. _What did this again?_ The thought dies out without an answer. Like every other thought. Dead, vaporized, gone. 

And it’s cold.

Weight on her back. Heavy. _Warm_. She blinks, a half-blind bird, breaking her gaze off from her thumb.

A blur of blue camo and dark hair. _Kaidan._ Right next to her. His hand is the weight resting between her shoulder blades.

“Hey. You okay?”

She stares. Stares right into his eyes, and sees it there, too. Sees it everywhere she looks: an impossible emptiness. 

The back of the briefing room chair is hard against her spine. Chairs are empty now. They’ve been like that for a while. Dismissed, yeah, she said everyone was dismissed. That’s what she did.

Kaidan’s here. She doesn’t understand why. He asked something, didn’t he? A while ago, he said something to her, but all she’s doing is staring at the mirror in him. The crushed emptiness reflected back.

Her hand reaches for his—shaky, tentative, barely there. Regs try to tug at her but they don’t get through. Nothing does. He laces his fingers with hers. The red, swollen edges of her finger ache when his skin brushes hers.

And she’s in the briefing room. And he asked something. And it’s cold. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she says. Squeezes his hand hard. Says it again and she can’t stop saying it because it’s the only thing left. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know what to do.”

“Me neither. God, me neither. I’m so sorry.” 

Hunching over herself, her uniform’s stuck to her clammy back. Sick. Cold. The floor, gray. The floor, close. Closer. And her body’s still in the chair but the rest of her inside is hurtling towards the ground. Terminal velocity. About to crack and splinter apart on the cold concrete.

She shuts her eyes and grips his hand. He grips it right back. 

_I don’t. I don’t know what to do._

* * *

Her elbows dig into the desk, and the screen glows in front of her. Cold, bright— _the sun on the beach, glinting off the sand, the smell of salt and palms, boots splashing in crystalline water._

That was _this_ morning. God, maybe Ada never left. Maybe she’s still groundside, the air thick with humidity and heat, the sky soft blue, staring at the glinting water. Forever.

She picks at the irritated edges of her finger. The calls. Right. Four numbers in front of her: Mrs Williams first. Then Abby, Lynn, and Sarah, depending who’s there when she calls Mrs Williams. The screen shines.

_The shine of blue balloons, silver streamers, buffet tables spilling over with sparkly cupcakes, popcorn, soda. Makeup in the morning, helping Sarah with the zipper, snapping a photo on the omni in the lawn._

The floor bottoms out from under her. Oh, _god_. Sarah. Sarah at prom, the food, the pics in the yard. Ash won’t get to see it now. Any of it. 

Ada digs her nails into her forehead. Shuts her eyes. Weightless. Hurtling, the ground rushing up, closer and closer and closer.

A deep, impossible breath.

_They need to hear it from me. Whatever it takes._

She hits call.

* * *

_Is there a body?_

The grates on the floor are silver. The necklace Sarah was wearing was a silvery moon-shaped pendant, just like the one Ada owns, and Sarah gripped it tight when she choked on the words. 

_She isn’t dead. Sorry, but she wouldn’t just die, Commander. Ash wouldn’t just die._

Mess hall and there are bodies scattered around. Standing at the sink. On the stairs. Immobile by the lockers. Bleary, plastic-like eyes all turn towards her when she drifts in. 

She doesn’t know what to do because this was never supposed to happen. She was going to make sure it didn’t happen. 

But it did. 

The eyes stay on her. Waiting. 

Rolling her icy-stiff shoulders. Okay. Okay. Come on. _Think, Shepard._ Hands behind her back, nails dug into her soft flesh. She doesn’t know what to do, yes, that’s right. Doesn't know. But the bodies—no, her crew, her crew is here, they’re still here, they’re not _all_ dead—need her. They do. The eyes are all her crew, and her crew needs her, because she’s Commander Shepard, and she’s crossed lines and made friends here and she’s supposed to know what to do. Even though she doesn’t. It’s her duty to know. Her responsibility.

“I just finished calling Ashley’s family. We’ll need to pack up her locker and send them her personal items when we arrive at the Citadel.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Liara. She’s the one frozen by the lockers. First losing her mom and now the only person who might understand. A weight, intolerable.

“Thanks for making those calls. I can’t—I can’t even imagine what her family’s going through.” Kaidan, he’s the one staring blankly at the sink. Voice weighted down and quieter than she’s ever heard it.

_Is there a body? Can she come home?_

The rest of the crew’s faces filter in, and it’s not looking good. Glassy eyes, stiff postures. The same fractured emptiness in her reflected in them. Swallowing the whole ship.

She _has_ to do something. She won’t leave them out in the cold. Can’t. 

_“Leeks, potatoes, carrots. Yep, that should be the last of it, Skipper. You sure about this? It’s not exactly protocol.” Ashley eyes her as she pushes the basket of groceries, fluorescent light buzzing above her. Garrus and Tali trail behind them, picking out the last of the dextro ingredients._

_“I’m sure. I think everyone needs a little comfort food right now, and you’re the one who said you missed your mom’s recipe, so. We’re doing this.”_

_Ash smiles, soft and gentle. “Well, thanks. I appreciate it.”_

The ingredients. Yeah, that’s right. The stew they were gonna make for the crew after Virmire. Comfort food. Carrots, leeks, onion and fresh beef, the plant-based substitute—they’ll rot. They’ll wilt and mold and die in the fridge if they don’t use it. And use it soon.

_Can she come home?_

She’s gripping the handle of the fridge and pulling.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. How about some dinner? This was supposed to—” Her throat clenches, the bag of bright-orange carrots gripped and frozen in her fist. _Come on. Keep fucking going. For them._ “This was supposed to happen with Ash, but we’ll … Make this in her memory. God knows she’d kill me if I wasted this stuff.”

The fog of silence lifts. Hums and footsteps and cupboards clatter, and Kaidan’s next to her, sleeves rolled up.

“We’re with you.”

* * *

Ada’s palms are warm against the ceramic bowl. Should be scalding hot, probably, but a distant, thin layer of warmth is all that gets through. Thick, salty-rich steam curls from her stew. From every bowl of stew. There’s bowls balanced on knees, chairs dragged up from the armory, crewmembers perched up on the counter. The mess hall has never been fuller. Everyone’s here. Everyone. The spiced, tender scent of the stew settles on the air. Smells good. 

_We have to go back. Pick her up from the beach. She needs to be here for this. I promised._

Ada digs the edges of the spoon deep into her finger. Wrestles the convulsive thought down. _Focus._ Her crew. Ash. This is for them. She lifts her chin and finds her voice.

“Thanks for helping out with this, everyone. I appreciate it. You don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, it’s alright, but whoever’s willing—I thought we could share a couple stories about Ash.” The spoon in her hand trembles. She places it on the table and clasps her hands in her lap. Kaidan gives her an encouraging nod. “And dig in, too. We don’t want this to get too cold.”

Slow nods and downcast looks, but the clatter of spoons against ceramic starts up. Low murmurs and shoulder nudges. 

Liara is the first one to speak, stew untouched on the table.

“Ashley was—Goddess.” Her eyes well up, hand over her mouth. Dr Chakwas rests a soft hand on her back. “Ashley was like an older sister to me.” 

_Oh, god._ Ada inhales sharp. A mother, a sister. Gone. Heavy, unbearable pain starts to wrap its tendrils around her ribs, the base of her throat, the edges of her lungs.

Tali hums low, her bowl of deep-green, dextro-shiny paste in front of her. “Yes. She reminded me of my family back home after she got to know us. I wish … I wish she were here."

_We have to go back for her. We can’t leave her on that damn planet._

The tendrils grip tight and her throat seals shut. _No. No. Focus._ She has to keep it together. Can’t fall apart. This is for and about Ashley, and it’s for her crew, and they deserve her full attention. Digging the hard edge of the spoon deeper into her skin, she pushes the heavy tendrils down deep. Where they can’t reach her. 

Wrex mentions the moment he knew Ash was over her suspicions about him: she snuck him some ryncol. The good, Tuchankan kind, too, not some second-rate crap. Joker mentions the spiced whiskey in her locker; the way she offered him some on his birthday, too. Garrus talks about how she learned his poker tells. Cleaned him out every game after a while, but always paid back the credits he lost to her. Said she didn’t actually need ‘em, just the pride of kicking his ass. The Draven sisters mention how Ash let them borrow her Tennyson book; how she said they could keep it for as long as they wanted. How her notes were scrawled in the margins.

Kaidan breaks his frozen silence. Looks up from his stew and shakily, quietly tells the story about how Ash caught him stumbling out of his bunk, a migraine killing him, and how she was the only one still up. How she got him an ibuprofen, handed him some water, refused to listen to his protests about how he was fine—Sarah got nasty migraines too, so she’d seen the hell they were.

More stories. Stories upon stories upon stories, and for a second, just a second, it’s like Ash is here. In the mess, leaning on the counter, a half-smile on her face. A woman made of hot-headed stubbornness. Grace. A heart bigger than the damn stars.

The eyes—glistening wet now—turn back towards Ada.

Kaidan gently, imperceptibly brushes her hand. “Hey. You want to say anything?”

Ada stares at her empty bowl of stew.

“I loved her. Simple as that.”


	9. Broken Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaidan looks for comfort in an unbearable situation. Ada does her best to push forward and finish this, one way or another.

Crushed. Dark, clammy cold, Kaidan can’t catch his breath under it. No air and no light’s getting through. They’re hurtling towards Ilos, the Normandy stolen, breaking every damn Alliance reg in the book and he can’t—he can’t _move._

_I loved her. Simple as that._

Knuckles pressed over his mouth, he curls into himself. God. _God._ He did too. Ash’s hand stretched out, the glass of water glinting under the lights. Weighing up the dart in her fingers. Grinning at him when she won. Starting off stubborn, misplaced fear clouding her vision, but she opened her heart to all of them, alien or not. Opened her damn heart, let them all in, and now she’s dead. 

The heaviness shoves him deeper into his bunk.

_A board-game on the floor with his cousins. The balcony door open, cool night air drifting in. Singapore’s lights glitter outside, and Jun steals a handful of his popcorn, gap-toothed grinning._

The clear, bright memory glimmers in the dark. He—what? Why’s he thinking about Jun and all those trips back to Singapore with his mom now? 

_Ashley. She would’ve fit right in._

The tired muscles in his jaw tense. Yeah, god. She would’ve. He can almost see her in the background of his memories—ruffling Jun’s hair, teasing Kaidan, leaping and bounding around the room with the rest of his cousins.

_Family._

The weight pushes right into his bones, so heavy he’s afraid they’re gonna splinter. He might splinter. He’s splintering right now. 

The last time he felt like the damn floor was falling out from under his feet, like he wanted to sob and heave and scream all at once like this was—after Vyrnnus. And he didn’t. Won’t now, either. Sleeping bodies all around him. A ship full of eyes. The weight’s about to goddamn kill him and he can’t make a sound.

But he can’t feel it alone, either.

On his feet. Clammy, numb hands tie bootlaces. Half-stumbling through the halls. Legs dead and heavy. Sleeper pods are shut. The dirty bowls are stacked in the sink. The mess is empty now, all the warmth and spiced air from before long gone. 

He’s at her cabin door before he can think about it. Because he’s not thinking. If he were thinking at all—well. He wouldn’t be knocking, soft, on the hard blue plastic.

He waits. Waits. Leans hard on the wall as another wave of splintering pain bears down on him. God, maybe he should just go back to bed. This was a bad idea. 

The door slides open. Foggy eyes and a sheen of sweat over her skin. That’s what greets him.

“Kaidan? Is everything okay?”

“I—” _Crap._ Didn’t think this far. “I don’t know. Can I…?” He nods towards the inside of her cabin. 

“Of course,” she says, and for a sec, the faded idea of regs pulls. The thing that used to feel so important, so pressing. Tries to wrench him back. But they stole the Normandy, so do regs even apply anymore? Still, he doesn’t wanna make things worse, and—she blinks, the same look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh. Right. Regs. Don’t worry. I’m not exactly in the mood for anything, well, physical, so. Should be fine. You okay with it?” 

A nod. Yeah. He’s not feeling anything either. The door shuts behind him. He’s here. What was his idea again? 

_To not go through this alone._

And he isn’t alone now. But he’s not sure—he’s not sure Ada’s all the way here, either. She’s pacing. Back and forth and back and forth, chewing on her nail, glancing at the datapad on her desk and then back. Nervous, shaky energy radiating off her in waves.

“I. Oh. Sorry if you’re busy. I can go.”

The clunk of her boots against the metal floor stops. She turns towards him, crossed arms tense as wire about to trip. He’s never really seen her wound so tight. “No, no. I’m not busy. Sorry. I’m just—I don’t know. What’s up? Everything alright?”

_Ash ruffling Jun’s hair, stealing popcorn, armor, skin, teeth, hair vaporizing in a flash of heat._

Damn it. What was his plan again? What’d she ask? The floor, unsteady. Legs are cement. Glancing towards an island, the bed, a chair— 

“Could I—?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

He’s on the edge of the mattress. Fingers digging into his thighs, creasing uniform. Vaguely, distantly, there’s a part of him yelling loud _—pull it together, Kaidan!—_ but it’s not getting through.

Her weight next to him now. All he can look at is her hands. How she’s picking at the swollen-red edges of her nail. Picking, digging, the swelling getting worse.

“You alright?” Her voice, low and soft. An anchor.

“Sorry, I just.” He takes a breath. His stomach stabs. _Trust her._ “I thought I could handle this on my own, but I guess. Guess I can’t.”

“Oh. I—that’s okay, Kaidan.” The picking stops, her fingers stilling. “Honestly, I don’t want to be alone, either. Everything’s fucked, and I can’t afford to break. Not now. So. Thanks. For showing up.”

_Can’t afford to break._

He finds the strength to lift his head. Looks over at her. Pale, her jaw clenched, her eyes glassy and scanning the room from one corner to the other. 

“How are you holding up?”

She shrugs, nonchalant, but there’s a forced edge to it that twists his heart. “Dunno. Trying to focus on the mission. On what’s ahead of us. Can’t fail Ash.”

“We’ll stop Saren. I know we will.”

“Yeah.”

Silence falls over them. Saren. Flying blind on a stolen ship. Headed straight towards a planet they don’t know if they’ll come back from. 

Ash. _Her hand outstretched, the glass of water glinting under the lights._ The pain works through his body, a mercury-heavy drug, and it hurts. 

It’s that simple, and that hard. It _hurts_.

He nudges her hand, soft. She laces his fingers with hers and grips tight, grips true. Her palms are overheated, damp, but she’s pulling him close. Leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“God. This can’t be happening. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

“I know.”

The pillow is soft against his cheek. He isn’t sure how they got here. Laying down. Hugging, holding on to each other. The Normandy hums. Her terminal beeps. His uniform’s scratchy and uncomfortable against his skin, but this is what matters: _not alone._

“I can’t believe she’s gone. I can’t,” Ada whispers, pressing her forehead against his, minty breath warm on his face.

 _Gone._ The wash of pain threatens to splinter him. 

“Me neither. Doesn’t feel real.” 

She shifts closer to him. Gently combs her fingers through the back of his hair. He centers in on that: the feeling of her fingers trailing warm and gentle. _Anchor_. He moves, too, somewhere down the line. Focuses on tracing the tiny bumps on the edges of her ears, the edge of her jaw. Matching his breath with hers through the burn, the dark inside him.

Ash is dead. He isn't alone in the crushing weight of that.

* * *

Pulled out from the fractured half-dream place. Walls of her cabin, blue, and a weight draped over her waist.

_Kaidan._

His face. Eyelashes tickling his cheeks, right in front of her. In her bunk. His arm, that’s the one draped over her.

Oh. Right. Last night, he showed up. The feeling of his fingers tracing her jawline, moving in slow circles on her arm lingers. Fever-dream fuzzy.

_Ash. That was—real._

The sharp barbed-wire of that goes to grip around her heart, but she tenses against it—shoves it away. Tries to. Moves shaky fingers towards the face in front of her. The slope of it, the shape of his ear, the mole near his hairline. Tracing it over and over. Anything but the thorned, writhing thing inside her—the thing she knows _will_ kill her if she makes eye contact with it.

The slope of his jaw, the shape of his ear, the mole.

Her omni beeps, startling her, and his eyes dart open, glazed, lost. Both of them, so lost. 

“Hey. It’s just my alarm—we’re almost there. Should get going.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

They move together, slow. Tying boots, smoothing out uniforms, brushing teeth. No words left.

She glances over at him while they walk towards the bridge, and the promise is a beacon inside of her.

 _I’ll finish off Saren. For Ash. For her family. For everyone else just like them._ _Whatever it fucking takes.  
_

* * *

Hands and knees, she crawls over smoking metal and shattered glass.

_Are they—?_

There’s a ringing in her ears that won’t quit, and blood is leaking through half-broken glove, but there's no feeling left.

_Is Saren—?_

A strand of loose, sweaty hair in her mouth, she heaves herself over the twisted mass of ship, breath a struggling wheeze. They have to be okay. It has to have worked because she promised, and the moon pendant and Ash's big eyes, and laughing over lemon-water in the hot tub, and a heart bigger than the stars—she promised. The waiting room, her mom's shuttle trailing black smoke, whole worlds hanging in the balance, a galaxy of stars and families in their living rooms, and her promise, she goddamn _promised_ — 

Black, shimmery hair. 

_Kaidan._

He turns to look at her, and the tension in his jaw breaks apart with a smile like the sun through fog. There’s no Reaper hanging above him. No wire-metal Saren lunging for his throat.

Her blood-soaked hand presses into her own chest, legs weak with relief.

_We did it._


	10. Glimmer in the Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything, Ada and Kaidan get their shore leave.

The patio door slides open, and Kaidan barely registers it. The smell of green apple and clean linen. Long gone is the smell of the funeral: pale, thin grass and dusty air. Ada’s clammy hand grasped in his the whole time. The crowded, dim bar with the crew after; beer and Liara getting too drunk and Wrex choked up. Leaving, waving goodbye in the hazy afternoon sun, Ada’s head on his shoulder the whole flight over. They landed in Phoenix a couple hours ago. Just finished unpacking for the next couple weeks.

Shore leave. Yeah. The thing they promised each other what feels like forever ago. A different life, maybe. But the higher-ups are talking reassignments, and things have been so crappy lately that everyone just needs a break, so. They went for it. Ada’s home state, her never-used apartment, a whole lot of free time he’s not used to. Doesn’t know what to do with. _Ash’s mom is just as tall as her daughter. The sun backs her, cemetery stretched out, and it’s like he’s looking at a ghost. Vaporized in a flash of heat._

An arm wraps around his waist.

“Enjoying the view?”

He blinks. His mouth, half-numb. View? What—? Oh. The one right in front of him. Burning orange and simmering red light, bleeding into snow capped mountains. No pale grass, no rows of tombstones. 

_No Ash._

“Yeah. Sunset’s more colorful than up north.”

“Mm. It is.” 

The view. Ada. No Reapers, no Saren in sight. He’s—he’s supposed to be enjoying himself. That was the plan, before Ash. Ash, and five Alliance frigates blown to hell, hundreds of soldiers dead. Skyscrapers gleam in the distance, the sloping edge of the mountains dark and far-off.

Another thing Ash won’t ever get to see.

His eyes sting. Ada gently pulls him a little closer. He can’t really feel her hand. All he can feel is the dark, the crush inside his chest. His eyes well up. Bites harder into his mouth, but it’s no damn use.

“You okay?”

Tears spill and trail down his cheeks. Drip into his mouth. Can’t hold them back.

“I. I miss Ash.”

She exhales. Leans deeper into him. Green apple, clean linen. He anchors himself to that. 

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

They watch the sky fade into a hazy dark.

* * *

“Damn it. _Damn_ it.” 

“What’s up?”

Kaidan’s warm voice rumbles behind her, and she’s pulled towards it, never able to help herself. She shields her eyes against the glare, and—oh, god. The glow of the January afternoon sun backing him, the hard blue sky stretched out above him, he’s _beautiful._ Even with his eyes tired, swollen-pink, he’s strong and tall in his dark jacket and hiking boots. Corners of his mouth soft. Gentle. Despite everything.

Her eyes bite and sting, and she looks away.

_Shit._

“It’s nothing. The peaches, that’s all. They went bad.” 

“Damn. Well, that’s okay. We’ve still got plenty to eat.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we do. It’s fine.” But her voice fucking trembles on the _fine_ , and her heart’s stabbing the same damn stab that’s been chasing her ever since the funeral, and—

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Don't worry. It’s just—technically, this is our first real date. And after all the shit that’s happened, I wanted it to be perfect. Just this one thing. That’s all. But the peaches went bad.” Her fingers dig into the thin plastic bag, tearing into it, eyes refusing to quit their stinging. _Stupid goddamn fruit._ “Sorry. Dumb thing to get all upset about. I know. I know.”

Hand on her back. The same pull from the haze of the funeral, her cabin, the shuttle-ride here. Tugging her back from the freefall.

“I don’t think it’s stupid. I get it. It’s our first date. It’s supposed to be special, right?” His fingers tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and she can’t help but lean into him. Lean out of the ache inside her. “But being here with you is all that matters to me. We could be eating rocks for all I care, you know? I’m just happy I get to spend time with you. Perfect or not.” 

She sniffs, swallowing the tears back down, a watery smile breaking through. “You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that? Too damn sweet.”

“I try,” he says, a hint of a half-smile on his face, and he fishes out the rest of the tupperware.

She settles down next to him on a muddy-red boulder. Munches on her cheese sandwich, appetite a little better than it’s been for the past while. Rests her head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of chilly air, dust and sweat. 

A hawk circles the sky. She watches it glide, its dark feathers glinting. Dad always knew the different types—Cooper’s hawk, maybe? God, she can’t remember crap these days. A long, cool sip of water washes down her sandwich. Passes the bottle over to Kaidan. 

“Thanks.”

Birds chirp in the sparse trees. The same sweet sound from when she was a kid, a teenager, all of it—feels like someone else. So far away she can’t reach it anymore.

_Not that it matters._

She moves her fuzzy head, and Kaidan’s face is close. So close she notices the water still wet on his lips. Smooth, full. 

She goes still. The trees rustle, the hawk circles. His warm breath on her chin. Embers of flickering heat spark in her chest, glint through the fog inside her, and she. _Wants_. She wants to lean in and kiss him, just like she wanted to in the armory, and the elevator, and the overlook on the Citadel. In dreams. 

And she can now. Everything else is fucked up, but—the desert is the only thing that’ll know. No regs, no messy power dynamics, no eyes everywhere. Saren dead in the ground. 

Nothing in the way. 

His eyes flick to hers, bloodshot, tired, but they’re tender. He’s still here. Still tender, somehow. The pull gets stronger, but—fuck, maybe she shouldn’t. After everything that’s happened... Maybe it’s wrong to look for happiness after that. Selfish.

_Skipper, I swear to god, if you screw this up I'll kick your ass myself._

Ashley's voice, hard and clear, cuts right through the hazy fear inside her, hits her square in the chest. God, yeah, Ash would kill her if she let him slip away.

She wants this. _Him._

“Would it be okay if I kissed you?” 

Those warm eyes widen an inch but he doesn’t pull back. Nods, leans closer, and her heavy heart’s in her throat, eyelids fluttering closed, and—

 _Soft, smooth._ A hint of almond lip-balm, his lips move slow and gentle against hers. Pink warmth flowers in her chest, cushioning the bruised ache, breaking through the numb fog. His calloused hands cup her jaw, sparking static, and she leans in deeper. Parts her lips, inhales sharp through her nose. Wants to get closer. _God_ , she wants all of him—he’s coming home to a warm bath after a long day, and she never wants to get out.

She pulls away first, breathing harder now. The hawk’s long gone, the birds quieter, or maybe she’s just drunk and heady on that kiss. He presses his forehead into hers, a quiet smile on his face, and she can’t help it either: a smile, and it doesn't hurt this time. And she finally forgets about the bruised peaches in her pack.


	11. Quiet Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada and Kaidan go to a farmer's market. Kaidan tries to ignore the fact that he's no good with crowds.

Kaidan breathes in the fresh, chilly morning air. The farmer’s market stretches out before them, early sun glinting off the white canopy of the tents. The sky’s that same brilliant, intense blue. His eyes keep getting caught on it. It’s way bluer than the sky in Vancouver’s ever been, that’s for sure. Warmer, too, so warm they get to have farmer’s markets in January. He squeezes Ada’s hand. Her skin’s soft. He still feels—

_Her fingers gently grip his hair as he leans in to kiss her, her cheeks and chest flushed pink._

“Alright.” Ada turns to him, and he blinks away the afterimage of last night. _Focus._ “You feeling anything in particular?” 

His gaze flits over the chalk-written signs and baskets of fruit, cheese and jam-filled jars. The bustle of chatting vendors and giggling kids reaches him. “Hmm. I think you’re the expert here. Which one’s your favorite?”

She breaks out into a big smile at that. “Kathy’s gonna be so excited to meet you.”

“Wait, who’s Kathy?”

She just starts walking, tugging on his hand. Guess he’s meeting someone named Kathy. Passing each tent, he soaks in the bundles of fresh, blooming flowers, the piles of deep-green kale and the gleaming jars of honey. Hints of fresh-baked bread waft through the air. He didn’t wake up all that hungry, but that’s changing—this is nice. He’s missed farmer’s markets. Missed doing normal stuff. No explosions, no galactic threats, no dead friends. Just them, and a bunch of delicious food to stare at.

_Still wish Ash could see it, though._

He swallows that thought down. Folds it into himself: _not right now. Later. Let me have this._

A tan woman with salt-and-pepper hair is behind a booth full of ripe oranges—oh. They stopped.

“Hi there. How can I help—oh my god. _Ada?_ What’re you doing here? I thought you were out saving the galaxy! How are you?” 

That must be Kathy.

“I’m good. Thought I’d visit on shore leave. Oh, and this is Kaidan, by the way. Kaidan, this is Kathy. She’s known me since I was a kid.”

Heat pricks his cheeks. Surprise introductions to old family friends? 

“Kaidan, was it? It’s good to meet you.” 

“Hey, yeah. Nice to meet you too.”

Kathy turns to Ada and winks at her, an incredible amount of jeweled rings glinting on the woman’s fingers. “So you finally settled down. He’s cute, too. Better than the last one.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get it out of your system, Kath,” Ada says, rolling her eyes, but she’s still smiling, and Kaidan can’t help but watch. It’s so damn good to see her smiling more often—almost like things are okay. Helps him feel like maybe things might be okay, too. 

“I’m happy for you, that’s all. She ever tell you about the time she tried to steal from me?”

“Whoa, hey, okay. _Steal’s_ a strong word. I was four years old.”

“That just made it easier for you to slip under my booth. She grabbed maybe ten of my oranges. Imagine her, but tiny, running full speed with oranges falling out of her arms. She was so scared she was gonna get arrested when we caught her, it was so cute!”

“Wow. An orange thief at four, Ada? That’s adorable.”

“Oh, and when she was a teen she drunk-texted me, asking about jam that could be eaten off someone’s—”

Ada cuts Kathy off, cheeks pink. _Cute._ “No! Absolutely not. We’re not telling _that_ story. How about we try some of your oranges?”

“Oh, come on. It was just getting good. _Jam_?” Kaidan says, eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at him. He’s gotta hear this.

“We’re here for the oranges. I don’t think Kaidan’s ever had one as good as yours, Kathy.”

“Alright, alright. Fine. I’ll stop embarrassing you, pumpkin. So, where you from, Kaidan?”

“Oh, I grew up in Vancouver. Why?”

Kathy’s eyes light up, and she leans over a basket, hands rolling each orange. 

“Great! Okay, let’s see. I think this one should do.” She grabs one, gets out a knife, and slices it. The tart scent of citrus fills the air, and damn, he’s really hungry now.

“Bet you ten bucks they don’t have oranges this good up there. Here.” 

Kathy hands them both a slice of dripping orange and a napkin. Ada takes a big bite, humming low. A droplet of juice trails down her chin as she chews. He gets distracted, eyes following her mouth. Last night tugs at him again— _her mouth is warm and wet as she presses a kiss into his pulsepoint, his collarbone, trailing lower, and everything else inside him fades away—_ but she looks over to him from the corner of her eye. Raising an eyebrow. _Well? Go ahead._

He bites in. Tangy, candy-like sweetness floods his tongue and he can’t help a guttural hum, either. Yeah. It’s _way_ better than any oranges he’s had up in Canada. “You win. Those are incredible.”

“Glad you like ‘em. We grow them just down the road.”

“Could we get a bag?”

Ada leans in. “Or ten. I wish these would keep on the Normandy. I’ve missed them so much.”

Kathy starts piling a bag up for them, the bangles on her wrists clinking. “It’s on me. You two go do your galaxy-saving thing, okay? Maybe tell the Council about my booth.”

“Oh, no, we’ll pay for it. Not a problem,” Ada says, digging out her credit chit.

“You guys saved our asses. You’ve earned some free oranges, so take ‘em.” 

Kathy hands over the fruit-filled bag. Ada shifts on her feet, but finally takes it. Kaidan eyes them—can’t wait to dig into another one once they get back to her place.

“Thanks, Kath.”

“Any time. Just visit more often, okay? I miss you. And it was great meeting you, Kaidan.”

“You too.”

“Take care, both of you, alright? Now shoo. Go get some watermelon juice before it runs out.” 

Ada gives her one last wave, and links her arm with his, body close and warm against his.

Kathy’s right. While they were talking, a line formed by the juice stall. How long’s it been since he had watermelon juice? Last time was with Jun and Tao in Singapore's market downtown. Years ago. He’s missed it. 

“Kathy was great. How'd your parents meet her?”

“My dad's been buying from her for decades. I always came with him on Sundays, and he’d buy me something from her stand. And when I got into cooking, she helped me out with finding good ingredients.”

“That’s cool of her. Mm, we should try a recipe with stuff from here sometime.” 

“We should.”

Sweet watermelon juice slides down his throat, nice and cool. Just as sweet as the one he had as a kid. He’s better off for it, too, because the sun’s starting to really beat down on his head, winter or not. Guess Phoenix is still gonna be Phoenix. More and more people fill up the space between stalls. Simmering heat and bodies and not much space—it’s cramped. 

He swallows, doing his best to focus on sipping his icy drink and on Ada. Ada, and the way her nose crinkles when she laughs at one of the vendors’ jokes. Her tender smile as she offers him a sample of thick, organic honey. Or how the muscles in her arms tense when she crosses them, tapping her fingers on her skin as she tries to pick out a flavor of jam. 

_Her arms grip around him, strong and glistening, nails digging into his back. Blue sparks over his skin, reflects in her eyes, bathes her room—_

“—also have a jasmine, oolong, and prickly-pear fruit variety.”

“What do you think? I like the jasmine in this one, but I dunno.”

Cramped bodies, last night getting fuzzier. Further away. Another swallow, but it’s tough. His throat’s getting tighter.

“Oh, uh. I think the jasmine would be good.”

“Awesome. We’ll take a box then, thanks.” 

More bubbly conversation, more tea. He hones in on that. On her, and the sun, and the sweet, rich smells around him. Another booth, and another, hand-in-hand, but it’s still—damn crowded. Voices loud. Overheated.

“Hey.” Her hand brushes his shoulder. “You alright? You seem a little spaced.”

He does his damn best to blink the heavy fuzziness inside his head away. Just because he doesn’t like crowds doesn’t mean he should ruin their day out. _Handle it, Alenko.  
_

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Where to next?” 

She steps in close, eyes searching his face, and he’s pretty sure his lie didn’t land. He tries for a smile but it’s hard to convince his mouth to move right.

“You sure? It’s fine if you want to head out. I’ve had my fill of oranges and tea. There’s a cool natural history museum nearby.”

He holds back a grimace. Not sure he can take a whole museum, more lines, more people. More bodies pressed all around him.

“I—” A deep, weary sigh. _Trust her, Kaidan._ “Could we head somewhere quieter? Not sure I can handle more crowds right now.”

Her eyes widen, and then soften at the edges. “Oh. Yeah, of course, sorry. Come on. I know a good spot. Should be nice and quiet.”

The inside of his eyelids is a hazy red, grass cradling his head soft. Sunny out, which he’s still getting used to. At least it’s not too hot this time of year—he’ll probably die if they visit again in the summer. Ducks quack and ruffle their feathers in the park’s pond. Traffic’s not too bad in the distance. He sighs, the tension in his back finally easing up. Nice to get some space from all that noise.

“I’m falling asleep, babe,” Ada murmurs, voice groggy, watermelon-sweet breath washing over his cheek.

“Me too.”

“We should…Mm. Nevermind. Too comfy,” she mumbles, and he just hums in response. Presses a soft kiss on her collarbone, easy, simple. Doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of being able to just—do that. Touch her without worrying about regs, rules, or eyes all around them.

The sun settles into him. Kids play in the distance, dogs barking. The fresh, green smell of the pond, the grass and her skin. Sleep tugs him down. A warm, quiet space, away from everything else. Muffling the ache. 

Yeah. He could stay here forever.


	12. Red Haze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada gets a cold and doesn't know how to deal with it. Kaidan's a good nurse.

Where the _hell_ is her credit chit? Another drawer wrenched open and she’s rummaging through, teeth grit. Now they’re gonna be late. _Fucking perfect, Ada._ Flight to Vancouver’s early tomorrow, and this is supposed to be a send-off to her home state. She’s been dying to show Kaidan her favorite restaurant, to drink a couple good bottles of red wine, and spend another night in her bed with him. Well, that was the plan _._

But she’s fucking it up. It’s the rotten peaches all over again. 

_Or losing Ash under your watch._

A hard pang reverberates through her chest at that thought. She wrestles it down, shoves it away. 

_Not. Now._

Focus. She has to focus. The tag of her dark dress is scratchy against her back, and her head’s stupidly fuzzy, and—she wrenches open another drawer. She just needs the damn chit. That’s it. Her polished nails glint under the bright, bright light, there’s something pulling at her attention, and— 

“Ada? Earth to Ada?” 

Oh. Kaidan. He’s staring at her—dark suit, orange-mint cologne and _god_ he looks good—and he’s got something in his hands.

“What’s up?”

“I found the chit—it was in your other jacket. You ready to head out?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks. Let’s get going,” she says, but her voice doesn’t come out right. Scratchy, low. She swallows and ignores the needling ache. Probably just allergies. 

Kaidan rocks on his heels, hands in his pockets. “Hey, you okay? Might be me worrying too much, but you seem kind of, well. Out of it. It’s fine if you don’t feel up to going out tonight. Really.”

“I’m fine, hon. Don’t worry.” 

Kaidan’s still frowning as he helps her slip on her coat. Pretty sure he didn’t buy it. But there isn’t even anything to buy. She _is_ fine. Just a little tired, or it’s the trees blooming early in the park nearby, or whatever. The tips of his fingers brush the back of her neck—ice-cold—and she fights back a shiver. _Christ_. Did he stick his hands in the freezer when she wasn’t looking?

“Whoa, hey—you’re burning up. You think you might be coming down with something? Were you feeling okay this morning?”

“Babe. I’m fine _._ Really _._ We’ve gotta get going if we're gonna make our reservation.” 

And they _are_ gonna go. She won’t ruin another damn thing, especially for, what, the sniffles? Yeah, no.

She leans down to reach for her heels—the fuzziness in her head swells, leaves her dizzy and reeling. She stumbles.

No. _No._

Kaidan’s hands, they steady her, stop her from face-planting into the wall. But she shouldn’t _need_ to be steadied, because she’s fine, they’re gonna go eat awesome food and drink way too much wine and— 

“God, you alright?” The back of his hand brushes up against her forehead. His skin’s still so cold. “You’re definitely feverish. It’s up to you, but I don’t know if going out like this would be the best idea.”

“I appreciate the concern, but seriously, don’t worry. I don’t get sick. It’s just not a thing with me. I’m not gonna cancel our date just because I’m a little overheated—I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Goosebumps chase down the backs of her arms and she bites down on the urge to tremble. _Damn it._ She doesn’t get sick. She hasn’t gotten sick for years _,_ and there’s no way in hell she’s gonna break that streak—especially here, especially now.

He brushes her forehead again, frowns deeper, and he’s still _worried_ , and she can’t believe this. She isn’t sick. 

“Ada … You can barely bend over without nearly breaking your head open. Maybe the restaurant can wait?”

“No. We’ll go out and have fun. I’m not sick.”

Another shiver seizes her. Beads of sweat prick at her hairline, and— _shit._ This doesn’t fucking happen to her. It _doesn’t_.

Kaidan, in front of her. Hands cupping her face, gentle, soft. The coolness of his thumbs against her cheekbones soothes some of the stupid burn inside her. “It’s okay if we don’t go out, I promise. I just want you to feel alright. You aren’t ruining anything.”

Her sore throat’s getting sharper by the second. Swollen. Angry. She stares at him. The steady sincerity in his eyes. That steadiness she just can’t resist.

_Plus, the idea of trying to swallow food right now makes me want to rip my throat out._

A heavy sigh.

“Fine. Yeah. It's probably a better call to stay in.”

“We’ll still have fun. We can watch a movie, eat popcorn—the works, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

Cool hands trail her shoulders, tug her coat off, and she drags her dress over her head. He helps her pull on a tank-top and shorts. The scratchy tag is gone, but still. Boring clothes. Not supposed to be wearing boring clothes tonight. In the bathroom, she drags make-up wipes over her eyes, tugs pins out of her hair. Glares at her pale, clammy face in the mirror. 

_Stupid traitor._

“Come on. Let’s get you into bed. Then I’ll head down to the store to get some supplies.”

“I can come with,” she mumbles, but he pulls back the covers of the bed, and her heavy body crawls in without her permission.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine on my own. You try to get some sleep. Want anything in particular?”

“Tea? Might help with the sore throat, but. Well. Honestly, just get whatever you think I might need. I have no idea.”

“Okay. See you in a minute.” A soft kiss on her forehead, the lights going low, and she listens to his footsteps pad out of the room. Listens to him grab his keys, jacket, boots. And leave. For her.

A vague, hazy balm spreads through her. Hushes some of the persistent aching in her head, her throat, her whole body at this point _._

_God. He’s so damn sweet. Can’t really believe he’s sticking around._

The pillow’s nice and cool on her cheek. Okay. Okay. She’s resting. Doing it all right. She’ll be fine tomorrow—fine, and healthy, and it’ll be like this never happened. 

Her body decides to disagree right then. Every swallow hurts so bad now, worse than ten minutes ago, sharp and like there’s razors coating and digging into her throat. The shivering’s getting worse. But it’s too hot. And her face is a sun-melted balloon. She doesn’t _get_ sick, but here she is, and Kaidan’s at the store, and— 

_Get some sleep._

No. She can’t. Not like this.

Sheets kicked off. On her feet. Dizzy, eyes watering, but she’s up. Gaze desperately searching the room for something to _do._ Anything but this.

A couple minutes later, her clothes are strewn out on the couch, sweaty hands unfolding, folding, and organizing every inch of her closet. She needs to do this. Needs to. The swollen throat, the heat is fucking unbearable. Heavy. Humid.

_The sun on the beach, glinting off the sand, salt and palm trees, boots splashing in crystalline water—_

The shirt slips from her fingers. Fingers, going stiff. Dead.

No. 

_No_. 

She already decided—she is _not_ thinking about that. She’s _not._ She’s been good and happy and away from it, away from that place, and she isn’t going back now— 

Swollen throat closes up but it’s for a different reason this time, a worse reason, and she—she’s _not_ doing this. Can’t. But the tendrils of pain climb up her stomach, her chest, her throat, filling it, barbed and gripping and impossible, worse than the sore throat, worse than anything. 

Her jaw sets, fists clenched. _Stop.  
_

She was good. She was happy. She won’t— _can’t_ —let this happen. 

Wine. Or vodka. Strongest thing she can find. Maybe—yeah, maybe she has some in the cupboard. Did she buy some last time they were out? Stumbling, now, pushing off the wall towards the kitchen, towards the thing that’ll make all of this shitty night better.

Cupboard’s empty. 

Her heart sinks to the floor. She just wants— _needs_ —

_Thanks for the drink, Skipper!_

Fingers digging into the granite counter. Please. _Please, stop._ A tall glass of wine, washing down delicate food, filling her stomach warm and full. Filling all the emptiness, smoothing over the thorned tendrils drawing blood in her throat, laughing with Kaidan, holding his hand under the table, that’s—that’s what she wanted. Going out, getting away, forgetting. Was that too much to ask? 

_You’re not a stupid sixteen-year-old anymore. You promised you’d never go there again for good reason. No drinking alone, no third or fifth or sixth glass. The cupboard being empty is good. A good thing, Ada._

It doesn’t _feel_ good. She drags herself back to bed. None of this feels good. Her stupid sick body, her stupid sick heart. Stupid. All of this is so damn stupid.

_And it fucking hurts._

The sound of the door again. She curls deeper into herself. Sweats some more, clutches her pillow tighter. The crushing weight bears down on her but she bites into her mouth until it stings. Chokes down the tears.

From the kitchen, the only warmth left, his voice: “I’ll brew you some tea, okay? Won’t be as good as the stuff you make, but I’ll try.”

 _Okay._ Only has the strength to think it, no voice left. 

A steaming mug of tea on the bedside table, the scent of ginger and honey. 

“Do you want me to stay?”

She’s nodding before she can stop herself. She needs him. Can’t have anything else. No night out, no cleaning her closet out, no good wine or vodka. The fever sears hot and clammy cold, but he’s next to her now. That’s what she needs. Anything but this.

_It’s been an honor, Commander._

Hands. Here, again. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbles. Thunder like Virmire. Thunder like the deep, unbearable ache in her chest. 

But his hands on her back, rubbing circles. She keeps coming back to that. Just like in her cabin all those weeks ago; that night she’s refused to revisit. His fingers, trailing up and down her arm. His voice saying something. Can’t catch the meaning, but at least the hum of it is warm. Constant. In the sickly haze, in the freefall, that’s all she can hold onto: his voice, the way his cool fingertips follow the line of her shoulders, trail her spine slow, and then drag back up. A steady constant. 

She drifts off into a murky, half-sleep. 

_I’m so tired._


	13. Sweet Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada and Kaidan go on a date to the aquarium. Kaidan sees another side of Ada.

The aquarium seemed a lot bigger when Kaidan came here as a kid, but the tanks are still no joke. Tonnes of inky-blue water glimmer on the other side of the glass, and schools of shiny fish flit in and out of the murkiness. He sidles up to Ada, who’s reading through one of the glowing signs on the feeding habits of clownfish. “Good idea to come here. It’s been too long. You liking it so far?”

She hums, hands clasped behind her back. She’s doing a lot better after a day or two of bed-rest in his apartment, whatever head cold she picked up finally lifting. And she smiled at him over their pancakes this morning—eyes just a little less dull. “It sure is impressive. And not as terrifying as I thought it’d be.”

Wait. _Terrifying?_

“Not a fan of all the sharks?”

She puts a hand on his shoulder with a low sigh, and his stomach knots a little. Was this a bad date idea? “It all started one summer night. I was with my ex—you know, Reyna? We made the stupid decision to go skinny-dipping in the ocean. At night. It was pitch black out on open water, but we were fine—just splashing around—until she felt something cold and slimy brush past her leg.” He tenses. _Crap_. This can’t be going anywhere good. “Now, I didn’t know it at the time, but there was a shark in the area. Big, white, and—”

Kaidan rolls his eyes and knocks his shoulder with hers. “Oh my god. That’s just the plot of _Jaws_.”

She breaks her serious composure with a sheepish grin. “Damn. Thought I had you for a sec there.” The smile slips off her face as she looks back towards the water. “I _am_ actually afraid of the ocean. Not for any big reason like a shark attack, though. No clue where it came from. It’s irrational, which is—ugh. Annoying as hell.”

“So why’d you agree to the aquarium? Wanted to show these fish who’s boss?” 

“Pretty much. Guess I wanted to see if it was any different from the ocean,” she says, pulling his hand into hers, lacing their fingers. He can still feel the scar from the fight with Saren on her knuckles. 

“Is it?”

“Well, I’m happy to report I’m not freaked out at all. If I had to go swim in one of these tanks that might be a different story, but right here, I’m good. With you.” 

She looks over at him with warmth in her eyes and his heart goes supple. Of _course_ she’d think a face-your-fears experiment would make a good date.

“Glad to hear it. Still, if you get tired of all the deep water, I think there’s an otter exhibit upstairs.” 

She drops his hand and steps back. What, does she hate otters? Should he have not—? “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, I saw a sign that said—”

Ada’s already halfway towards the stairwell before he can finish his sentence. “Catch up, Alenko! We’ve got otters to see.”

* * *

God, he had no clue she’d love his idea so much. Who would’ve thought the hero of Elysium, savior of the Citadel, first-human-Spectre would _melt_ at the thought of a few otters? He can hardly keep up at her breakneck pace up into the plaza. It’s crappy winter weather outside—wet and gloomy. A huge contrast to Phoenix, that’s for sure. There’s a group of giggling kids with raincoats on lingering around the open-air tank. Ada’s already there with them in two steps, and she looks like she’s barely restraining herself from bouncing on her heels, too. Kaidan finally catches up to her, a little out of breath. 

“Kaidan. Those two otters. They’re holding _hands_. Isn’t that the cutest shit you’ve ever seen?” 

He’s gotta admit: it _is_ pretty damn adorable. The two otters float around the pool, bellies to the air, miniature paws clutched in miniature paws. But the way she’s got half her body over the railing, the bright smile on her face—yeah. That’s even better. 

“It is. Those whiskers are something else. I never did peg you for an otter-enthusiast, though.”

She doesn’t take her eyes off the furry animals while she’s answering him. “Never seen one in person ‘til today. But I’ve always been stupidly soft for fluffy animals. Just ask my poor mom. The amount of time I spent begging her for a dog…” 

“Did it work?”

“Nope. No pets allowed on space stations. I sure tried, though. Oh, look—that one’s holding a rock _._ Who the hell gave these things permission to be so cute?”

Quiet tenderness spreads through his chest as they watch two of the younger otters wrestle each other into the water. This is nice. Lovely. He looks over at her and his gaze gets caught on the light dusting of pink on her cheeks. The way that usual hard line of her shoulders is loose and smooth, the way her eyes are so much brighter than they’ve been in weeks. God. All of this is so _easy_. No mission. No galaxy on fire. No waves of inky grief right now. Just him, Ada, and a bunch of otters.

“We need to go.”

He snaps out of his reverie. “What?”

“I saw a sign. Come on.”

She’s already turning a corner by the time his brain finally clicks back on. _A sign?_ He catches up right as she stalks towards a short, pale, red-haired employee—can’t be older than a college kid—who’s staring at them, frozen on the spot. “You’re—you’re Commander Shepard. And the actual Kaidan Alenko. Holy crap. Holy crap.”

“Yep. That’s us. So, I saw something about feeding the otters?” She’s not even looking at the sweating employee, her gaze over his head and into a glassy enclosure.

“Yeah. Yeah, there’s a caretaker who can help you out and show you the ropes and stuff.”

“We good to go in, then?” She steps up closer to the kid, and doesn’t seem to notice the way he shrinks into his oversized jacket. 

“I, uh, you need to pay the fee. It’s thirty credits each, and you—"

“Sure.” Her omni’s out and she’s waiting to transfer the credits. The kid scrambles for his desk and his terminal, finally handing them both ticket stubs in shaky hands.

Ada looks back at Kaidan, eyes sparkling. “You coming, babe?”

He wordlessly follows, giving the trembling kid a grateful nod. Guess they’re feeding otters today.

“Her name is Pip. I know she looks grumpy, but deep down she’s sweetheart.” The caretaker— Josie—ushers them into a small, rocky enclosure. Pip sits on a mossy boulder, flicking her big wet eyes between him and Ada. “Here. Lean down and say hi. She’s not a huge fan of petting, but she is a big fan of fish.” 

They kneel down, and in one of the most tender voices Kaidan’s ever heard her use, Ada says: “Hi, Pip.” 

Pip squeaks at them. He’s never seen an otter this up close before—those adorable, brown eyes could bring a Reaper to its knees. _And_ she has tiny fangs _._ No wonder Ada sprinted up here. When Josie brings out a bucket of dried fish, Pip squeaks and wriggles on her back paws. Ada puts a hand over her mouth, glancing at him with a glistening _you seeing this?_ look in her eyes.

“Alright. It’s time for her lunch. Would you like to start, ma’am?”

“I’d love to. How should I...?”

Josie hands her a small, dry block of gray food. “Just put it in your hand, but keep your palm flat. Don’t want Pip snacking on your fingers.” 

He watches as Ada delicately stretches out her hand to Pip. The otter turns to her with a chirp and scrambles forward, tiny paws grabbing the chunk of fish from her palm—it’s gone before either of them can blink. Ada lets out a bright laugh. Like the sun breaking through clouds, just for a second, and his heart stutters. He might go ahead and smuggle an otter onto the Normandy if it’d mean he’d get to hear _that_ on the regular. 

“She’s a hungry one, huh?” She turns to Kaidan, nodding towards Pip. “Feel like trying it?”

“Absolutely.” 

Josie hands him a piece, and he lays his hand flat out. Pip rushes forward and stuffs the food in her mouth, fluffy cheeks working overtime. He chuckles, trying to resist the urge to scratch Pip’s fluffy head. Knowing his luck, he’d probably get bit. 

Pretty soon—way too soon—the bucket of food is empty and Pip is whining at Josie for more. “No, no. You _know_ you only get one bucket. Well, that’s about it, you two. You have any questions or anything?”

Ada’s picking at the wool on her jacket. “No. Guess not. Thanks, Josie. That was fun.” 

“Yeah. Pip’s a sweetheart.”

Josie seems to pick up on their disappointment because she’s giving them a sweet smile and reaching into her pocket. “Here. I keep a few treats around just in case. Go ahead and feed ‘em to her.”

Ada’s face lights up and god, he _needs_ to smuggle one of these onto the Normandy. It’d do wonders for morale. They lean back down, treats in hand. Kaidan’s is gone the second he lays it out, and Pip’s already at Ada’s hand lunging for the second treat. She clutches it in her paws as she scarfs it down. Ada gives the otter a big grin. “You’re so damn cute. And hungry. It was nice meeting you, Pip.”

Kaidan gets to his feet, and Ada’s moving to follow when Pip reaches out with a paw. And she grips two of Ada’s fingers, a plaintive chirp at the back of her throat. Ada goes stock-still. “Oh my god.”

“Aw. I think she likes you.”

Josie snorts. “The little devil wants more food. But she usually isn’t so polite about it, so yeah, I think she _does_ like you.”

Pip doesn’t let go and squeaks at Ada again, big eyes staring into hers. Kaidan grins. He’s positive he’s going to die of too much cuteness right here, right now.

She speaks sweet and low to the otter: “Sorry. No more treats. Don’t want to get you in trouble. But Josie here will give you some more later, okay?” 

Pip tries one more high-pitched chirp, but Ada gives her an apologetic shrug. The otter lets go of her hand, scurries off to her rock and flops down on her back, belly to the sky.

“See you, Pip.” Ada dusts off her pants and thanks Josie again. They head back into the wet, tiled plaza.

“That was a great idea. Never knew otters could eat so much.”

“Yeah. She was adorable,” Ada mumbles, but she’s not smiling as brightly anymore. The line of her shoulders is hard, tense.

“Hey, everything okay?”

She pulls him over into a deserted corner of the plaza. Lowers her voice. “We’re going to steal Pip.”

Kaidan chuckles, soft. _Not where I thought this was going._

“Alright. Well, what’s the plan?”

“You distract the kid. I hack the door. Now, Josie’s gonna be in there with Pip, but if you cause a commotion out here, it should be enough to grab her attention.”

“What kind of a commotion are we talking about?”

“I don’t know. Something big. Fake a medical emergency, maybe.” She’s still scanning the plaza. His smile falters. He’s seen that determined set in her jaw before: when they stole the Normandy.

 _Oh_. She’s serious.

“Anyway, you do that, and I’ll grab Pip and run. We jump the north fence, get in your car and go. I’ll grab some treats for her, too. Sound like a plan?”

“I love that otter as much as the next guy, but there’s no way we wouldn’t get caught. Plus, I’m no actor. Don’t know if my medical emergency would be all that convincing.”

Ada gnaws on her lip. The wide-eyed employee is watching them and he’s fidgeting. “I _could_ say it’s a Spectre operation. Might work.”

“That’s definitely an abuse of power. And, hey, I think you’re freaking the poor kid out.”

“Good. We want him off-balance.”

“Getting arrested for attempted otter-theft would look terrible on our records.”

“Not if we don’t get caught.” Ada exhales long and crosses her arms. “I know we can’t _actually_ steal Pip. But it’d be so simple compared to saving the galaxy. A walk in the park. And you saw how cute she was. She held my _hand,_ Kay.”

“Yeah, I know. I wish we could’ve taken pictures. How about we come back next shore leave and visit her?”

“You better be serious about that.”

“Serious as ever. And we could have dinner with my parents, too,” he says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

She gives him a ginger, barely-there kiss with an aftertaste of grapefruit lip-balm. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. “Good. Speaking of dinner, I made that reservation for five, so we’d better get going. I’d like to actually make it this time around.” She throws a glance back towards the other otters still splashing around the pool. “I’ll miss you, little guys.”

Kaidan convinces her to go ahead to the car before him. Says he’ll buy them some water for the drive over. He’ll be right there. And he does get water, but he also stops at the gift shop. Finds her an enameled otter credit-chit chain that looks _a lot_ like Pip, all fluffy fur and long whiskers. Gets it gift-wrapped in a little box—fingers crossed he won’t lose it before her birthday a couple months away.

He slides into the driver’s seat, the car warm and smelling like her perfume, subtle fruit and dew. _Could get used to that._ He hands her a water bottle. "Hey, here."

"Thanks. Long line?”

The polka-dotted wrapping paper crinkles in his coat pocket. He gives her a warm smile. Starts the car. 

“Yeah. Something like that.”


	14. Threshold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning to the Normandy is harder than Ada ever thought it'd be.

Ada’s shoulder bumps into Kaidan’s as she flips the pancake, butter sizzling. “Oops, sorry.”

“No harm done,” he says, looking over at her, his eyes crinkled at the edges. Tender. Still in his PJ’s, slicing up the strawberries. Tenderness all for her, and she can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips. Smiling feels okay today. She feels okay. A little lighter. Last night, a blur, a nightmare waking her up sweaty and cold but the bitter aftertaste faded faster this time. Could be she’s still high off seeing Pip, or maybe it’s the smell of blueberry pancakes, or maybe both. She watches her pancake cook in the pan, mid-morning sunlight glinting off the countertops. God, she loves his kitchen—cozy, warm. Sunny today. Smells like flour, fresh spices, and him. Him. Right next to her, cooking, humming under his breath to the radio.

_Mm. Wouldn’t mind spending every morning here._

Her stack of pancakes drips with pure, organic Canadian maple syrup, strawberries on the side. Kaidan pours a glass of juice for her, quiet, steady. Don’t need to talk, not yet. That need to fill the silence she used to feel is gone. Just being in the same room—that’s enough for now. She digs into her pancakes. Watches him slice into his strawberries, his shoulders relaxed, his face smooth. No furrow in his brow this morning, even though— 

Even though it’s here. The last day of shore leave. The day she’s been dreading.

Her hand tightens on her fork. Yeah. _Fuck_. A month away from everything, four weeks of dinners and lazy mornings and hikes and it’s here. Reality running up hard against the fuzzy, warm haze she’s been wrapped in. They didn’t get reassigned, either, which—god, she doesn’t know how to feel about that. Yeah, she’s no good at staying groundside too long, and misses her crew like hell, but still. This time feels different. Harder. A sharp, blue ache. They talked about it last night, quiet in the dark. Ground rules: no dating while on the mission together, no pushing regs, keeping it totally professional. God knows they don’t want to fuck things up now, so it’s back to business. They might be able to escape for a couple weekends, use more shore leave, but it’ll be stealing time, stealing hours or days here and there. Nothing like this, uninterrupted. Not for a while.

“What's on your mind?”

She blinks, and he’s here, and she’s in his dining room. _Okay. We still have a few hours._

“Oh, sorry. Just thinking that I’m gonna miss this.” 

“Yeah, me too. Haven’t had a shore leave this nice in—well, I don’t know how long. Despite everything that’s happened in the past couple months, I’ve had fun.”

She gently knocks her knee with his, smiling over her plate of pancakes. “Same here.”

Breakfast is over way too soon, and she’s in his room. Packing up her toothbrush, boots, dress, bottle of perfume. He squeezes her shoulder when he passes by, she brushes her lips against his cheek while he folds up his blues. Can’t stop stealing touches, trying to take everything she can get while she still can. 

They’re at the door, duffel bags in hand. She looks back into his apartment, flooded with sunlight now—a promise to herself: _I’ll come back._

The door opens, and they walk out into the city, hand in hand.

* * *

Her cabin is the same as ever. Sleek walls, blue tinge in the lighting. The hard bed, her terminal. Now that she’s stepped back into the ship, shore leave barely feels real—it’s already fading into a shimmery, hard-to-grasp haze.

Her duffel bag drops to the floor. Yeah. Everything’s the same as she left it. Everything should be the same, should be fine, because she’s happy she figured things out with Kaidan, she’s happy to see her crew again, the sea of stars stretched out before her, but— 

It still doesn’t feel right.

Her eyes sting. This, _this_ is what she’s been dreading for a month. Coming back to—to this. To a place that doesn’t fucking feel _right_. She presses her hand into the wall, and there’s the hum. The hum that travels up into her wrist. Steady. Constant. Reliable as all hell. But there’s no warmth inside her when she leans into it, no old familiarity that slots into its place. 

Cold. That’s what it is. The Normandy’s supposed to be her home but it’s cold. Empty. So far away from the sunlight of Earth; her warm oasis of unreality. She bites into her mouth, presses her knuckles into the hard metal. Ash is dead, when her crew calls her _Commander_ she feels sick, and her home’s an empty shell.

Unpacking her socks, her uniform, her under-armor. Folding them, trying to ignore the fact that they still smell like Kaidan’s detergent. Ignoring the clamminess in her palms, the radiating hurt in her chest. 

The humming gets louder, and the floor tilts an inch. Must be taking off now.

Ada shuts her locker. A breath of cool, temp-controlled air. She squares her shoulders through the bite, the sting, the radiating ache. The green lock of the door glimmers in front of her.

Her crew’s out there.

Yeah. Her crew. Waiting. Voices leaking in from the mess. Crew. Friends. This is all wrong, her ship is cold and empty and off, Ash is dead, but they stayed. Her people _stayed,_ and god, she owes it to them to try. After all the shit she’s put them through—she’s gotta do what she can to make it better, warm, good again here. Bring some of her month away to the ship, infuse the halls with the bright memory of that.

This mission. Her crew. It’s all she has left. And she refuses to turn her back on them now, sharp blue hurt or not.

She walks out.

“Alright, everyone. Ready to head back out there?”

Steady, trusting eyes look towards her, and the ground stabilizes a little more under her feet. 

“Aye aye, Shepard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we made it to the end of ME1. Hope you enjoyed it! :) If you'd like to read Kaidan's side of the story during ME2, the next part of the series, [The New Horrible Normal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22138084/chapters/52842370), is all there. Thanks for reading!


End file.
